Sometimes I Think Farmer H Does This On Purpose

Farmer H does not communicate in a manner that I find logical. He will make a statement that leaves out pertinent details, and expect me to know what he's talking about. This week he had to fix a leaking sink for one of the elderlies at the Senior Center. He was telling me about it that morning.

"Yeah, we'll go by and fix the sink for the 88-year-old gal. Then I have to put in a garage door for Agnes [not real name]."

"Who in the Not-Heaven is Agnes?"

"The old lady. The one who bought the QuickFlip house. But she's paying me for that."

"You can put in a GARAGE DOOR?"

"Yes. It's just like any other door. A door in her garage."

"You mean like a people door?"

"Yeah. A door to go in and out of her garage."

Well of course. Because any time I hear "garage door" I automatically think of a regular door going in and out of a garage. NOT. That's why in my boring tales of my travels to town, and my adoring fleabags, I always specify "people door" when I talk about the entrance/exit to the garage, rather than the big segmented door that raises and lowers to allow T-Hoe egress and ingress.

I swear Farmer H does this on purpose, so he can tell me I'm wrong, and I don't know nothin'. Then again, maybe he just thinks everybody's brain works like his. What a scary thought!

If This Tune Sounds Familiar...

It's because Mrs. HM wails this song every other month. Feel free to tune up your world's smallest violin and accompany me. A rousing jam session. Just one more service Mrs. HM provides. Unlike THE ELECTRIC COMANY, which lately seems to provide very little in the service arena.

Once again, the electric bills for our flip houses have gone awry. You may recall that in January, all three bills arrived in a timely manner. Two of the payments were received in a timely manner. But one went missing. Missing for several weeks. It was paid online on the due date. Then the check arrived a week or two after that. So we double-paid, but got a credit on the next bill.

Yes, the February bills came on time. All three of the flip house electric bills in one giant 8 x 12 white envelope. Different from the two electric bills for Farmer H's storage unit stores, and the two bills (Mansion and BARn) for our home, which come in regular business size envelopes, always on time. I don't know how there can be such an issue so often. 

On Friday, Farmer H sent me a text. He'd received an email that the Bargain House electric bill was due on April 3. I did not get such a notice, though I get them on all other of these seven accounts. I went online to pay, since we didn't have a bill. I checked through my checkbook register, and saw that I had also not paid the other two flip houses, because we never got a bill! Bills for these flips usually come between the 20th-22nd of the month, all due on the 3rd. I paid those two online as well.

Monday the 31st, we got the three bills for the flip houses, all in one giant white envelope. Our mail comes in the afternoon. The earliest we could have mailed back a check would be April 1st. Hoping for it to arrive and be credited by April 3rd. I'm pretty sure that would not happen.

These statements are dated March 13. So it took 18 days for the electric company to get these bills to us. I seriously doubt that was a problem of the USPS. The February payments were mailed on the 20th, and received by the electric company on the 26th, with a weekend in between those dates. Something is fishy about the way the electric company is sending out these bills. It's like they are hoping to charge people for a late fee.

Yes. I know my song is a broken record. No. I will NOT allow the electric company access to my bank account to draw out money for automatic payments. I'm not about to try dealing with that when we sell these flip houses, and want to stop automatic payments. It's a giant hassle of trying to get a real person on the phone at both the bank and the electric company, and then HOPING they do their job right.

I'll just keep singing this song, next verse, same as the first, and making a "guest" payment online when the bills don't arrive. I really prefer a check, for record-keeping purposes, especially on these flip houses. If the electric company can mess up paper statements, a billing method which has been used for decades, who's to say they won't mess up their electronic data as well?

One Way Or Another, I'm Still Pretty Sure

For a short time, I thought maybe the efforts had stopped. That perhaps Farmer H was NOT trying to kill me. Nah! I'm pretty sure he's just developed more subtle tactics.

Thursday I bought the lunch treats that Farmer H likes to take to his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. They are little slider-size sandwiches that come in boxes, as part of the 5-for-$25 deal at Country Mart. Farmer H likes all three kinds: chicken, spicy chicken, and cheeseburger. You never know which kind will be available. Sometimes all three, so he gets a selection. For the past two weeks, I could only find the plain chicken. But this time, the cheeseburgers were available.

These little sandwiches are wrapped two to a pack, inside the box, in clear cellophane. The cheeseburgers come three packs to a box, the chicken contains four packs. Anyhoo... boxes take up a lot of room in the freezer. So I take out the packs and wedge them into space between other foods.

I opened up a box of cheeseburgers at the cutting block, to put them in FRIG II's freezer in the kitchen, rather than the mini chest freezer in the laundry room. As I reached down into the end of the box, to get the last pack, the flap caught my arm. That was a mess!

I felt the stab, so I noticed right away, and found a bandaid so I didn't get the leaking blood all over my town shirt. It's not like I needed a tourniquet. I was in no danger of exsanguinating. It's just annoying and messy.

Also, I have been dealing with healing this bruise on my other arm. I whacked it on a doorknob about a week ago. I really hate to go to town in short sleeves lately, heh, heh!

When he built our Mansion, Farmer H put French door handles on all the interior doors. You know, the long kind, with a little curlicue on the end. Not something practical for a household with a 2-year-old and a soon-to-be born baby Pony. With a regular round doorknob, you can at least put those plastic covers over them for child-proofing. But not with a lever there to be yanked. Anyhoo... Farmer H sometimes does not open the bedroom door completely against the wall when he comes out in the morning. So in the afternoon, when I come out after showering for town, I misjudge that partially open door, and whack my arm on the handle.

Good thing I'm not still taking that devil-drug Xarelto, the blood-thinner they gave me after my blood clots incident. Aspirin is bad enough, but I might actually exsanguinate from these Farmer H-caused injuries if still taking Xarelto.

So crafty, that Farmer H, seeing into the future and setting his traps 27 years in advance.

Hillmomba Takes A Pounding

We expected rain on Sunday. Farmer H would have gladly grilled some of our leftover frozen sausage patties. But I told him I saw rain was forecast. So we put the grilling off for a few days, in favor of meat loaf. We don't regularly watch the local news and weather. If Farmer H has some work planned on the outside of a flip house, he checks his phone in the morning for the forecast. So we had no idea that actual STORMS were headed our way.

I was sitting at the kitchen table with HIPPIE around noon. The sun was shining. I even took a picture of Farmer H's newest addition to the back porch. Scarcely had I sat down from doing so than the skies darkened. The wind picked up. And HAIL STARTED POUNDING ON THE MANSION!

This was a bit scary. The trees were whipping around, and the sky got dark as dusk. I did NOT want to open the kitchen door when I saw that the hail was coming down at a 45-degree angle. That hail was the size of hazelnuts. 

There it is, on the back porch outside the kitchen door. Sorry for the view through the window shades, but I was not opening that door.

When I looked out the other window at POOLIO, the water was churning like a bubbling hot tub! So much hail.

That's an even worse view, but you can see hail on the porch rail, and lining the edge of POOLIO. It apparently did not hurt the frogs who currently reside in that location, peeping and peeping all the live-long night.

When I left for town around 4:45, later than usual, having waited for the storms to pass, I saw remnants of the hail, even though the temperature was 75 degrees.

The road to town was covered with twigs and bits of pine needles. The trees took a beating from that hail. It smelled wonderful, though, the scent of pine. 

The skies were darkening again. I only made two stops for my scratchers. No grocery shopping. It was starting to sprinkle before I returned to the Mansion. Our power went off FIVE TIMES between 5:30 and 6:00. Thankfully, it kept coming back on, though making us reset the microwave clock, and wait for the DISH satellite to reload its info so the TV could play. The electricity had only gone off once during the noontime storm, and came right back.

Farmer H said that probably a tree limb got blown onto a wire in the first round, and then when the wind started up again, it kept shutting off the power, but whatever system the electric company has as backup (I don't always listen to Farmer H's details) allowed the power to come right back on.

We will have to check our metal roof for damages. Not a good thing, since Farmer H just switched our homeowner's insurance to a new company a month or two ago. If we have a claim, they might raise our rates to the same as our insurance company of 35 years. I was against this change to begin with. I hope it doesn't bite us on the rumpus.

A Tentative Plan For Pupsie's Very Special Operation

Pupsie is barely any tamer than when Scarlett first stole her. Pupsie WILL come close to me, and will sniff the back of my hand, and allow my finger to tickle her jowl. That's it. Well. She will snatch a half-slice of bread from my hand. Not a dainty eater, that Pupsie. She shies away from Farmer H, but will also snatch bread from his hand as well.

Pupsie is probably five or six months old now. She needs her very special operation. The problem is CATCHING Pupsie to get her to the vet. Of course you need an appointment for that. Farmer H stopped by the newest vet this week. The office is only five miles from here, just past Mick the Mechanic's shop, on the road going to the bowling alley.

"I went in and told her the problem we have catching Pupsie. I asked if she had some kind of medicine I could buy, to give Pupsie so she wouldn't be nervous. Like a tranquilizer. The vet said she had some, but didn't think it would work well enough. Said it might just make her a little drowsy. I said I could probably catch Pupsie with a fishing net and get her there in a pet carrier."

"Well, that's not good! She'll be scared to death. She'll probably bite, trying to get away."

"Yeah. And tear up my fishing net! Anyway, I made an appointment for May 8th. I have to get Pupsie there by 7:45. Maybe by then she'll let me pet her. I thought about getting some good meaty treats."

"Between now and then, you need to spend 15-30 minutes a day sitting out on the porch with Pupsie and Jack. Have the carrier there. You can't just bring it out on the day you want to catch her. She'll be suspicious. So you sit out there on that chair on the side porch, petting Jack. Pupsie will hang around. I'll get some hot dogs and cut them up. Every now and then, you feed a piece to Jack. Pupsie will come over snooping around. Don't try to feed her out of your hand! Drop it real close to you. Have that carrier with the door open, where you can slam it shut on the day you need to catch her. Toss a piece of hot dog in there. Even if Jack goes to get it, Pupsie will be greedy, and try it herself when she sees nothing happens to Jack. Does she have to not eat before her operation? Maybe you can toss a hot dog in there on that morning, and slam the door when she's inside. That's all I know to suggest."

"It might work. We'll see how it goes. I might go back to the vet and ask for that medicine to try."

"It's not like you can catch Pupsie the night before and keep her in the carrier. She'll be too scared, and she'll have to pee and poop in the carrier. Too bad you can't take Jack along to the appointment. That might calm her down. She gets frantic if he's out in the back yard when I come home and it's time for treats. She wants Jack up on the porch with her. She runs out to get him."

"I could try that."

"You'd probably need Old Buddy to help you. Jack is not good at walking on a leash. I don't think you could handle both of them, with Pupsie in a carrier. And Jack might pick a fight with other dogs there. Make sure you tell the vet people that Pupsie will probably be scared and bite. So they can put a muzzle on her."

"We'll make something work. Maybe not the first time..."

How do you solve a problem like our Pupsie?

The Pony Is Back!

Around 2:00 on Friday, I got a text from Farmer H:

"Pony wants to meet so he can use my phone to get one ordered so be late coming home"

That was good news. Around 4:30, when I was in town, I got a text from our phone service provider:

"You have successfully linked this phone number to your [phone company] ID. If unauthorized, call xxx-xxx-xxxx. This phone number on your billing account was linked to your ID. If this charge was unauthorized, call or log in to adjust your line permissions."

Well. I would think that with our three phone numbers being on this same account, we would all have permission to use it. I know that I've added Farmer H and The Pony to this account before. I don't know what that gave them permission to do. Get a SIM card, I suppose.

Anyhoo... 45 minutes later, I got another text that me or my authorized user had entered into a finanancing agreement that may impact my monthly bill. And to call if it was not authorized. That's the thing. There are better bargains if you pay monthly rather than buy the phone outright. I don't like that. We have always preferred to get it over with, and not drag it out. Genius used to order our phones, and "jailbreak" them, and get them set up.

Anyhoo... five minutes later, I got another text that a SIM for The Pony's number had been updated. That was curious, but I knew they were dealing with the phone, so didn't worry.

Turns out The Pony had ordered the new phone using Farmer H's. Farmer H drove The Pony over to Bill-Paying Town to get the phone from the phone store. The Pony needed a new SIM to get his to transfer all his data. Usually we have that done in the store, but The Pony said he could do it at home, setting the two phones side by side. It took about 90 minutes, so I'm glad Farmer H didn't have to wait in the store for the staff to do it.

ANYHOO... The Pony has a new phone! We had a 15-minute chat Friday evening. Such a relief that we are now back in the communication loop! As with his last phone, The Pony will pay us monthly for his portion of the bill. All is well in Hillmomba once more.

The Universe Deals Sharply With Mrs. HM

What in the Not-Heaven? Mrs. HM is a pretty good egg. If you were to take a peek at her permanent record, you would see that she has never been a ne'er-do-well. In fact, she's been a mostly-do-well. She gives to charity. Holds her tongue. Is polite even to people who don't deserve it. She may not give the shirt off her back to somebody (no one wants to see THAT), but she has been known to give a dollar here and there to 10:00 a.m. alcoholics, and afternoon vapers. Short of refusing to be bullied by that soda-buying grouch into giving up her rightful place in line at the Gas Station Chicken Store, Mrs. HM's behavior recently has been exemplary. For her altruistic efforts, The Universe rewarded Mrs. HM by

SLICING OPEN HER RIGHT INDEX FINGER ON MONDAY NIGHT!

All I wanted was some microwave popcorn. Blast-O-Butter. It's delicious. Takes 2.5 minutes to pop. A nice treat after a week of working on taxes, and paying seven electric bills, and figuring out The Pony's share of flip house expenses. Not to mention making supper for Farmer H, and washing dishes by hand.

I put the bag of popcorn (seeds) into the microwave. Set the timer. Stood and watched, because what else can you do for 2.5 minutes besides lay out Farmer H's vitamin for the next morning? I watched the timer count down. Heard the popping slow. Opened the microwave door, and opened the bag to pour into my bowl. Mrs. HM is not an animal! She does not eat the popcorn right out of the buttery bag.

But no! That bag wouldn't open! I held it by the opposite corners as usual. They wouldn't pull! I tried the other two opposite corners. Nope. I needed to do something fast, before that popcorn burned in the hot bag. I saw a little crack along the top seam. I put my right finger in that slit to widen it. I knew to be careful, because hot steam (as opposed to cold steam, heh, heh) was coming out.

OUCH!

I thought I had burned my finger on the steam. I tried harder, and made a little (bigger) opening. Then the corners worked when I pulled them apart. I poured my popcorn into the bowl. My finger was really smarting. I looked. There was a CUT across my fingertip. Perpendicular to the nail. Blood seeped out. I grabbed a Puffs With Lotion off the counter to staunch the flow.

Do you know how painful it is to eat popcorn with an open cut on your finger? I hope you never find out. The Universe rubbed salt in Mrs. HM's wound! Actually, I rubbed salt into my own wound. But I really wanted that popcorn. I didn't so much want to wash dishes the next morning, or run my damaged finger through my shampooed hair, but I did. Still hurt. As does typing on HIPPIE's keyboard. None of which give me as much pleasure as that buttery popcorn.