Mrs. Hillbilly Mom Has Trouble Bringing Home The Bacon

It's SO hard to make money these days...

My big scratch-off winner is resting comfortably atop the Puffs With Lotion box on my kitchen counter. Farmer H suggested that we put it in (one of) the (two) safe(s) in his workshop, on the other side of the wall in my dark basement lair. However...I reminded him that I do not have the combination to either of the safes.

In the past, the three times I've won $1000 before, going back many years, I've mailed the ticket to MoLottery headquarters, and received my check by mail. Well. With all the problems we've had with the mail over the past couple of years, I do not feel at all comfortable doing that. There's a lottery office in St. Louis. However...I don't like highway driving. It's not like I can't do it. I used to work up there, you know. But I might just be driving along and all of a sudden have an inkling that I was in danger of imminent death. So you really don't want me in the lane next to you now.

Can you believe that Farmer H, fresh back from Sweden, has no plans to take me to the lottery office tomorrow? What's up with THAT? I'm sure that if he was scheduled to work Mondays, like before he was 40% retired, he would JUMP at the chance to miss a day and drive me. Not so these days. I guess he feels the need to sit on his Gator and watch the grass (that he cut today) grow.

Farmer H DID say he would take me on Friday. His next day off. According to my estranged BFF Google, it takes 64 minutes from Hillmomba to the MoLottery office. I'm planning to strong-arm a casino visit out of Farmer H that same day. I'm sure he needs a really good burger for lunch. You know. After living on Swedish fish and Swedish meatballs for the past week.

I don't think anybody offered to make him Sloppy Olofs.