Pooh-Pooh-POOLIO

The Pony has not dipped a dainty hoof in POOLIO all summer. He used to love floating around on a raft, listening to his devil-music. Sure, he's working now. But when he comes home all bedraggled from the 90-degree heat and upper-80s humidity on those steamy rainy days, surely POOLIO would be more refreshing than a hot bath in the big triangle tub in the master bathroom. I asked him about it on Sunday.

"Are you never going to get in POOLIO this summer?"

"I don't know..."

"WHY! Dad isn't always in it. You have two days off now. Well, one. Since we've spent today at the casino. Wouldn't it be refreshing when you got home from work?"

"Actually, it's the steps."

"The STEPS! They're right there on the porch outside the laundry room! It's not like when you had to go through the basement, or around the house, or climb over the porch rail and step down on the deck rail and plastic storage couch."

"Yeah. But after a whole day of work, my legs don't like steps. Even coming down to talk to you in the basement. That's why I holler from the top that I'm home."

"You could drive your car around to the back yard... Oh, wait. Thanks to Dad's re-design, you CAN'T. Because there isn't a way to get in POOLIO from the yard now. If somebody was drowning, you'd have to run around front and up on the porch to get back down to the pool to save them!"

"HM. Even if you COULD get to the pool from the yard now... that would still be STEPS."

Everybody has excuses!

POOLIO's chemicals are pretty expensive, to justify only Farmer H taking a dip 4 or 5 times a summer. I'm always telling him to go take an $800 swim. Even though I think he's spent about $200 so far on the chemicals. Summer isn't over yet, though! I ought to keep a tally of his swimming sessions and the cost, and divide it out. Not because I'm a miser. Just to mess with Farmer H.

What You THINK You're Getting, And What You GET

Saturday was not a good day for Mrs. HM. Only $12 won on scratchers, and a lunch that was not meant to be.

I went past Dairy Queen because I saw 7 cars in line. I figured I'd go on to Country Mart, to get a special ticket that The Pony likes, and then come back. Of course when I did that, a car pulled in ahead of me, and made the current line 8 cars. I was planning to wait. I might have mentioned that I CAN'T QUIT THEM! I crave the two-piece chicken strips and soft breadsticks on the 2-for-$4 menu. It's been about two weeks since I had them.

Then I noticed that of the three cars directly in front of T-Hoe, one was a mini van, and the other two were SUVs. I saw at least three heads in each vehicle. NOT-HEAVEN, NO! The best time I've made getting through the DQ line is two minutes per car. That was NOT going to happen with multiple orders in each vehicle. I could easily spend 40 minutes in that line if everyone ordered the chicken strip dinner. Which most people do, judging from the sideways paper sacks of food handed through the window.

I pulled out of line after it hadn't moved in two minutes. At home, I could have a Banquet! 

A tasty frozen Sweet & Sour Chicken Dinner. It looked really good on the package. 

DECEIVERS! Look at what I THOUGHT I was getting, versus what I actually GOT:

 

 

I'm sorry. That does not seem like the same meal. Technically, they show 5 chicken nuggets, and I had 5 chicken nuggets. Where is all my delicious sauce, and the peppers and pineapple chunks? Okay. There were maybe two of each, under the rice. A smattering of sauce. It was tasty enough, what there was of it. That's not nearly as much rice as it appears.

 

Good thing I supplemented my meal with two of the small FREE Ponytail Guy eggrolls!

Not Quite The Hero I Assumed Him To Be

I almost gave Farmer H some undeserved praise this week. Thank the Gummi Mary, he revealed the truth before the accolades were showered upon him!

When I left for town, I paused to give the dogs a bite of dog food. Ever since Farmer H quit buying cat kibble due to no more cats, the dogs don't get excited about this small going-away treat. They still run over to receive it, but sometimes only sniff it and walk away. It would be like expecting a scrumptious dessert, and getting a bowl of gruel. Yet this time, they were frisky, and jostling each other to get near the food pan.

 

Not a flattering angle for Jack, but catching them both in frame is like capturing lightning in a bottle. Jack is much more loving towards Juno than she is to him. She tolerates him to make a good impression on ME. She's been on the receiving end of my sharp tongue several times, for going over to eat Jack's food while hers rests in her bowl right there. In fact, Farmer H moved Jack's bowl way over to the other side of the steps to separate them.

Anyhoo... when I dumped a little out of the pan that's used to dip into the lidded plastic trash can where we store their food in the garage... I saw three red nuggets! In fact, Jack nosed them out and gobbled them first! I was heady with excitement. Farmer H had bought cat kibble for the dogs!

When I got home, Farmer H was floating in POOLIO. I leaned on the rail to talk to him, and saw my Sweet, Sweet Juno start up the steps. She NEVER goes down to the deck of POOLIO!

"Did you get cat food for the dogs? They were SO excited when I left! Jack ate the cat food pieces first!"

"There was a few pieces left in the can. Of the old dog food. This is new dog food that I bought them. Not cat food."

"Oh. Well. They must THINK it's cat food. They love it!"

"It IS different."

 

There's the new food, in the nonstick saucepan that we use as a dipper. Not that it sticks. That's what Farmer H had on hand, from the storage units, probably.

"What in the world is Juno doing down there with you? She sure came up the steps slow."

"I don't know. She never comes down here. She's afraid to go UP the steps, after that first time she followed me, and she hasn't come back. She lays up there and watches me."

 

"I don't blame her. You can see through the steps as you're walking up. How did she get back to the porch last time?"

 

"I carried her."

 

"You carried big ol' Juno up the steps?"

 

"Yeah. She was afraid. She wouldn't come up."

 

Okay. Maybe Farmer H deserves a small "Attaboy."

Even Steven Is The New Snag In The Pantyhose

Well. Somebody had big ears. Or at least big eyes. I should have known that I'm always being monitored. Now Even Steven has unraveled a thread in the rich tapestry of my life. How dare I write about serving up a cold dish of revenge to my bank, for making me do bond redemption through the drive-thru tube! 

Dang that Even Steven! If the women of the world still wore those torture contraptions called pantyhose, he would be otherwise occupied, and might leave me alone with my revenge fantasy. But no. He had to report me to the bank, so those drive-thru tellers could beat me to the punch.

I went to the bank on Wednesday. NOT to redeem savings bonds. I have to work up to that idea. No, I was going to deposit money that I set aside each week for our six-month auto insurance payment. It's so much easier now that I do that, and don't have to scramble to decide where we're going to pull that money from. It's right there in the safe, in a marked envelope, ready for deposit to write the check.

Also, I was making a withdrawal from The Pony's account (per his instructions) for the money he is paying us for HIS car insurance for the next six months. I had two transaction slips ready, and was going to make a pointed declaration when they greeted me, to make sure they USED MONEY FOR THE RIGHT ACCOUNTS this time!

I was running a bit late. Darn that Candy Crush! I'm severely addicted. As long as I have lives and free stuff, I keep playing on HIPPIE at the kitchen table. Anyhoo... It was 3:00 when I got in the shower. It's at least 20 minutes to the bank. 25 if I hit the red light by Burger King. Still, I thought I had time. I'm pretty sure the drive-thru is open until 4:30. Maybe later. But I used to have time to get there after school when I was working.

Of course I hit the red light. Even WORSE, the lady in front of me was not paying attention! Once it turned green, she sat there. At least five car lengths opened up ahead of her. SWEET GUMMI MARY! I hit T-Hoe's horn. THAT got 'er goin'! I guess she was playing with her phone. Probably Candy Crush...

Anyhoo... T-Hoe's clock said it was 4:05 when I pulled into the middle lane at my bank. The green light was on. In REAL time, it was 3:58. I reached out and pushed the SEND button, which is what you have to do to open the smoked-safety-glass window thingy to get the canister.

NOTHING.

Well, crap! Did they close at 4:00? Why was the green light still on? I hit the button again. Nothing. Dead as a doornail. Hey! There were two girls inside, partially behind computer screens.

"Oh, are you already closed?"

I asked the smoked-safety-glass door of the tubes, I guess. Since nobody had greeted me, and there was no clicky sound as if a microphone was being activated. I asked twice. Then a blond girl leaned around her computer screen, giggling.

"Sorry. We had to poop."

WELL! That was certainly most inappropriate! But what she said next was even worse!

"Here it comes."

WHAT IN THE NOT-HEAVEN???

Then I realized that she'd said, "We have the tube."

Heh, heh! That was certainly a relief. They were sending me the TUBE! Not poop.

I'm still wondering WHY they had the tube. Trying to make people think they were closed? If so, they really needed to turn off that green light over the middle drive-thru lane. I don't know why else they would have the canister they call a tube, since each customer should be getting a receipt after their transaction.

________________________________________________________________________

Their website says the hours of the drive-thru are 9:00 - 4:30. AND they have lobby hours now, from 9:00 - 2:00 on Tuesday-Friday. Good to know...

________________________________________________________________________

I Find This Particularly Ironic

The Pony came home last week and announced that MAW (Middle Aged Woman) had put a hold-down on the route they had started working on their first week of employment. They'd shared it for a while, and then one or the other would do it alone, depending on vehicles available. The Pony knew all the stops, and had his routine for bathroom and breaks.

 

From the best I can tell, a hold-down means you get to work a route that is currently unassigned. Meaning that the regular carrier might be on vacation, or has taken a different route. Parts of that route can be taken away, if a regular carrier needs the work to get 8 hours for the day, with no obligation to send you out to make your own 8 hours. The greatest perk appears to be that you can't be loaned out to other offices.

 

"I actually thought we had to wait three more days before we could sign up for a hold-down. The union rep apparently told MAW she ought to sign up for it if she was interested. I found out after my day off."

 

Farmer H had the opinion that The Pony had a fast one pulled on him. I don't think so. It's a merit system job, like when I worked for the state of Missouri. Regulations are pretty clear, if you delve into the rule book. The Pony didn't apply for a hold-down, and MAW did. It's his responsibility to know the regulations and follow them.

 

"Don't you want that route? So now she gets it, because she signed up? What if you both put a hold-down on that route?"

 

"I don't know, since we started the same day. So neither of us has seniority. But I do that route faster. I guess the supervisor would have to decide. I like that route, but I also like doing pivots. That's when I get sent out to help other people finish parts of their route. A lot of it is driving back to the post office to get the stuff, then driving to deliver it. I kind of think I like that better."

HEH, HEH! The Pony actually said he prefers HELPING PEOPLE!!!

That Pain In Your Rumpus Just Might Be Mrs. HM

Now that he's making a living, The Pony is making use of his local bank account. He's going to need checks, much to his horror. Not EVERYTHING can be paid online or with plastic. In my opinion, anyway. I was looking at the bank website the other day, and I swear it said THE LOBBY IS NOW OPEN! 

So whenever The Pony has a day off, he can go in and order checks. Or I could show him where I order online. He's probably prefer it that way. But just the thought of the bank lobby being open again has got me conspiring.

Remember how they let me make an appointment to come in and redeem my savings bonds? And THEN they said the next time that I could NOT come in. Like suddenly savings bonds were not worthy of an appointment. Even though their website showed plenty of 15-minute time blocks available for appointments. 

Of course they messed up my deposit and paperwork the first time I did that transaction at the drive-thru, and I had to drive around to the front of the bank, and a teller had to come out with my paperwork for signing. Didn't help themselves much by REJECTING ME!

Anyhoo... I told Farmer H that I'm feeling contrary.

"I have SIX bonds that need redeeming. I've been putting it off, because the bank always makes me mad. Now that the lobby is open again, I guess I can take in three, then do the other three the next week. I don't want to stand there for 30 minutes while they're fiddling around. I can't imagine how long it would take for all six, and how much they could mess it up.

You know what? I feel like going to the drive-thru with my bonds. I can sit and listen to the radio. I bet they tell me, 'You need to come inside to redeem these bonds.' Heh, heh! I WISH they'd try that. So I could say, 'Oh, no. You told me before that it can be done at the drive-thru, and I didn't need to come in. In fact, you canceled my appointment the MORNING OF my appointment. So I'll just stay parked here. The other customers can come inside if they don't want to wait.' Would that be wrong?"

"Well, they told you to do it that way before. So it's their own fault."

I doubt I'll have the nerve to actually go through with it. But it's one of my top revenge fantasies at the moment.

Rare Unicorn Sighting In Hillmomba

Yes. Mrs. HM saw a rare unicorn on Monday! Not to be confused with a common unicorn! Or a special unicorn. Which is another thing entirely.

Anyhoo... the Rare Unicorn made his appearance at the Gas Station Chicken Store. I swear, if you park there and wait long enough, every kind of critter and person in the world would pass by.

I had just paid for my magical elixir and scratchers. Had to spend paper! Not cardboard! I had no winners from the day before to cash in. I was bidding my goodbye to Man Owner on my way out the door, when the Rare Unicorn came after me!

"Ma'am? Ma'am? Did you forget your straw?"

Indeed, the Rare Unicorn was holding a straw in a white paper wrapper. Extending it to me in a gesture of good will and looking-out-for-ness that is virtually nonexistent these days. I'd seen that straw on the glass counter when I bellied up to the lottery section. Not mine. I never take a straw. I have straws at home. It's just one more item to juggle with my 44 oz Diet Coke and scratchers and T-Hoe keys. I can't unwrap it and put the straw down through the lid, because our gravel road is so bumpy that some of my magical elixir magically escapes the cup!

"Oh, no. That's not mine. It was on the counter. I have straws at home. But thank you for asking."

The Rare Unicorn was on the cusp. Teen-twenty. A stringbean with black hair, wearing jeans and a blue t-shirt, managing to look tailored in them. Such a polite young man. 

Between this Rare Unicorn, and the FREE AIR Tire Pumper, I might need to start carrying smelling salts... Politeness these days is such a shock to the system.