Steven Has Been Evening

Mrs. HM had a good day scratching on Thursday. After doing the banking, she took herself to the Sis-Town Save A Lot. That's because she had just shopped at Country Mart on Tuesday, after picking up The Pony to deposit checks from the sale of the Double Hovel flip house(s). The items she wanted to purchase were available at Save A Lot, and the lottery machine was fresh.

Let the record show that Mrs. HM got a $100 winner on a $5 crossword from the Save A Lot machine. In fact, she had other winners that totaled $142. So sorry for Fave at the Gas Station Chicken Store, and Genius in Pittsburgh, for whom she also purchased tickets there. Sure, they MIGHT have won something. But the odds are against it.

Anyhoo... on Friday, Mrs. HM was a bit late in leaving for town. A surprise thunderstorm sparked up during her naptime, and the creeks were overflowing. THAT GUY who always takes her rightful handicap parking space was once again parked there. Mrs. HM hobbled through the rain, and almost fell twice when her right knee objected to the extra distance. The Gas Station Chicken Store was out of crossword scratchers! The old lady who bought 10 of the crosswords in front of Mrs. HM on Thursday had come back and bought the rest of the roll on Friday! 

Casey's had a fire engine on the lot with flashing lights. It was gone when Mrs. HM went back after a trip to 10Box, but there was a smell of gasoline in the air. At least the parking had cleared out, with the handicap space now available.

After scratching at home, Mrs. HM won a total of $10. On a $10 ticket. That's way off from her regular win percentage. Hopefully, the six tickets she bought for Farmer H to have on Father's Day will provide some winners...

Mrs. HM, Now More Careful What She Wishes For

The drive-thru at my bank has been open for several weeks now. I must say, it has been a long time coming. Since last October! I was virtually drunk with excitement upon learning this new development at the end of May. I have been utilizing that drive-thru since then.

Well. The novelty has worn off!

Thursday, I turned into the bank's entrance, and noticed a black SUV sitting behind the bank, in the area just before the three drive-thru lanes. I suppose it saw me coming, because it pulled into the lane nearest the windows. The first lane after the lane that allows cars from the ATM in the back wall of the building to pull through to the exit.

I chose the middle of the three lanes, because it's the easiest to leave and make a turn into the back alley to make my escape. I had my withdrawal slip ready. I took the canister, and put in the withdrawal slip and my driver's license. I don't know whose canister made it inside first, but the black SUV was technically there before I was.

I heard the teller greet someone. It didn't come out of my speaker. That was a few minutes later. "How would you like... oh, I see you've written how you want your bills. I'll have it in just a minute."

I thanked the teller, and waited. I heard her finish up with the black SUV. Heard the canister going through the tube. BUT WAIT! There was some problem. The black SUV lady had questions. The teller had answers. The tube made sucking and shooting sounds. The black SUV lady had thought something was sent, but wasn't. She had thought it was returned, but wasn't. I couldn't figure out what was going on. I only knew that it was taking up my time. We were the only two cars in the drive-thru.

FINALLY, after 20 minutes, the black SUV left. The teller thanked me for being so patient "...while I assisted that customer with her problem." She sent my cash and driver's license through the tube.

I would be incensed at the long wait, except that for 8 months I have been hobbling inside the lobby to stand and wait for my turn. I can sit for 20 minutes on my ample rumpus, listening to the radio. No bone fragments off my knees! The thought of standing in line waiting on this gal was enough make me tranquil though my drive-thru wait.

It's POOLIO Season

Farmer H is getting a late start on POOLIO this year. He normally starts the draining and refilling and spending billions of dollars on chemicals at the end of May. I guess he forgot to ask for help with the cover. Sometimes The Veteran comes out, sometimes it's The Pony, and I think Old Buddy has also assisted. 

I came home from town on Tuesday to find Farmer H out back on his tractor, using the scoop to lift off the cover. It was not a simple process. Looked like he was doing it in short segments. He had the black plastic cover strapped to the lift somehow, and he'd raise it a bit just over the edge, and then manipulate it a bit while standing there, so water drained out.

Farmer H had been pumping a lot of water off that cover for a week, a bit at a time in the evenings. It's an odd task that involves a big orange extension cord that is plugged in by the dogs' water bowls, with the other end down at ground level by POOLIO. I think this keeps Farmer H from having to go down through the basement and out the door every evening. Maybe he can just control it from the porch this way.

Anyhoo... as Farmer H was coming in from his tractoring of POOLIO, I heard Pupsie and little Jack scuffling under the kitchen window. It sounded like they had something, perhaps a cow skull. Then I saw Pupsie come around, as if to get a drink, and PICK UP THE ORANGE EXTENSION CORD. She stood with it in her  mouth, looking back for Jack.

PUPSIE! NO!!!

That made Pupsie drop the cord, and go back to wrestling with Jack. But then she went to the cord again, and picked it up.

PUPSIE! NO!!! 

She looked surprised, but again dropped the extension cord. By then, Farmer H was coming up the basement steps.

"Your dog is trying to eat your big orange extension cord."

"That stupid dog! I'll fix THAT."

Farmer H went out on the porch, and started pulling up the extension cord, coiling it around his elbow. I guess he got to the end where it was plugged into something, because it came loose, and he brough it into the house.

"There. Now she cain't get it. She's gonna electrocute herself."

"Well. That would solve the problem of Pupsie..."

"She's so stupid. I bet she'll jump right in the pool. She ain't like Jack. He loves the water, but he won't even come down the steps to the deck."

That's why Farmer H has a gate to block the steps to the deck. So our pets were never at risk. My Sweet, Sweet Juno used to go down and lie on the deck watching Farmer H "swim." But Jack would not.

I can't help thinking what a show it might be, if Pupsie jumps in, and tries to avoid Farmer H catching her in the water. They might start a whirlpool.

I Swear, They're Multiplying!

Once again, Mrs. HM's attempt to have an unremarkable scratcher-buying experience was thwarted by a ne'er-do-well usurper of her rightful handicap parking space at the Gas Station Chicken Store.

It was Monday afternoon, after a hard day of selling the Double Hovel flip house(s), and I wanted nothing more than a peaceful visit to my regular scratcher provider. Yet here was this car in my space. I looped around and pulled into the FREE AIR parking space. I thought this driver might be leaving. After all, her tail lights were lit up from her foot on the brake.

But no. I waited five minutes, running the air conditioning in T-Hoe. Despite looking like an overcast day in this photo, the temperature was low 80s. Maybe this gal was waiting on a passenger to return. There were only about 5 cars on the lot. It shouldn't take long. But it DID. 

Pay no attention to this gentleman striding in front of the car. He appeared while I was trying to get a picture of the license plate for shaming purposes. I first thought maybe he was her passenger, and that she'd be moving on. But no. I finally got out to start my painful trek inside.

I suppose it was considerate of this lady to be such a bad parker. I had room to cut between her car and the building, hobbling right over the handicap stencil on the pavement. As I did so, I peered inside her car. I may or may not have given her my former-teacher stinkeye. It was a white-haired old woman. Still, that did not excuse her. She had no handicap plate, nor placard, and she was JUST SITTING. Not on her phone, not doing anything. Just sitting in my rightful handicap space, with her foot on the brake.

As I rounded the corner of the building, SHE DROVE AWAY! Dagnabit! I could have had that space if I had waited indefinitely for her to leave. But wait! All she did was drive into one of the gas pump lanes! She got out with no noticeable handicap, before I even made it to the door.

I guess some people think those stencils on the pavement mean the space is a designated waiting area for those who are looking for access to a gas pump. It's not as if she had the whole entirety of the parking lot to sit in her car and wait... She didn't even have a view of all the pumps around the corner.

How Curious Is THIS?

"Let me answer for you," as I used to tell my students, who would look at me cluelessly when I asked a question about their lesson. 

A miracle must have happened! When I got home from town on Sunday evening, having passed Farmer H on his way home, the BEEP of the smoke detector had stopped. Yet I saw no sign of a ladder or stepladder! Also, Farmer H told me he didn't have a battery, but had taken down the smoke detector and turned it off.

"You already knew you didn't have a battery! You said you were going to get batteries today!"

"Oh. Well. I don't have no batteries."

We also didn't have batteries on Monday. Farmer H did not buy any. We had our closing on the Double Hovel flip house(s). So I was with Farmer H all afternoon. No mention of batteries. I looked for some at 10Box, but all they had were the regular round batteries, in size AA and AAA. No 9-volt, no C, no D. At least I was actively seeking a solution to the smoke detector issue. 

Oh, and Farmer H had the nerve to say,

"There's one in the basement going bad, too."

"I TOLD YOU THAT! I SAID I HEARD ANOTHER ONE!"

"Huh. Well. I didn't hear it. Until I was down in the basement."

I suppose Farmer H went to the basement to get the stepladder. Or else it was in Genius's room all along. Which is where it likely resides now, since the smoke detector is off the ceiling, and I know Farmer H can't reach it without a ladder.

I don't know why Farmer H can't just honestly respond to a situation.

That BEEPING Farmer H

Sunday morning, Farmer H opened up the bedroom door at 5:50 a.m., on his way to water the dogs and get his lunch packed for a day at his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). As he entered the laundry room to get the water, I heard an unwelcome noise from the master bedroom.

BEEP!

You know what that means. Battery going dead in a smoke detector. There it was again.

BEEP!

That's the problem with a chirping smoke detector. You know there's gonna be another BEEP comin'. It's like waiting for the other shoe to drop. All day. Waiting for the entire inventory of a combat-boot-manufacturing factory to release one boot at a time from the top floor.

"Hey! Do you hear that? The smoke detector needs a battery."

"Oh, yeah. I don't have any batteries."

"Can you turn it off?"

"I ain't got no ladder in the house."

Pardon my almost-French, but that is one Not-Heaven of a lie! We always have a little stepladder thingy in the Mansion. My mom gave it to us. Kind of a cross between a stool and a ladder. I think it has three steps. It's metal, and folds out, with black rubber on the steps.

Farmer H must have known by my sigh and look of displeasure that I was onto him.

"Let me look in Genius's room. Maybe it's in there."

He walked over and opened the door.

"Nope. Maybe it's downstairs."

Farmer H took a half-hearted step towards the basement.

"Just forget it!"

"I'll get batteries, and do it when I get home."

"Sure. Can you at least close the door so I don't have to hear it so loud?"

"Yeah. I can do that."

I'm pretty sure Farmer H will "forget" to pick up batteries today. I'm also pretty sure he will find that little stepladder downstairs in his workshop.

Mrs. HM Can't Help But Feel Guilty

Farmer H grilled pork steaks on Friday evening. They were GREAT! Well, the half of one I had was great. And the Fred-Flintstone-sized slab that Farmer H had was great, according to him. It lapped over the big rectangle section of our yellow lunchroom tray, into the round section beside it. There's another one left for Farmer H to eat Saturday night, and three more halves for me!

Along with the pork steaks, we had hash brown potato casserole that I had frozen during our last holiday meal. It thawed out well. I added fresh cornflakes on top for crispiness when I warmed it in the oven. Also, I made garlic cheese bread.

THIS IS WHY I FEEL GUILTY!

We did not invite The Pony to come out. It was just an evening thing when Farmer H got home from his SUS2.5 and Friday evening bull-shooting session with his cronies. No desserts. No salad. Just pork steak, potatoes, and bread. The Pony only likes the bread. But The Pony REALLY, REALLY likes the bread.

I made the confession when talking to The Pony on Saturday.

"Was the bread good? I bet it was really good!"

"Yes, Pony. But I feel so bad that we didn't invite you. You don't like pork steaks, and you don't like the potatoes. So it was just us. But I still have half the loaf of French bread left! I plan to use it. I might make more of the garlic cheese bread on Sunday. I could bring you some when we pick you up to go to the closing on Monday for the flip house. You could run it in your house before we go."

"OR... I could just eat it on the way!"

Heh, heh! I suppose that's an option. To show up to the closing with garlic breath! I figure The Pony can put most of it in the house, and eat one slice on the way. I made six slices from the other half. Not sure how many of the new ones will survive Farmer H's appetite. At least The Pony will get a taste.