Neither A Squatter Nor A Snotter Be

CasinoPalooza 4 has been in the planning stages for a month. Farmer H and I have been waiting for a time that my sister the ex-mayor's wife and the ex-mayor can get away from their childcare duties. They take care of Babe, their granddaughter, while her mom and dad are at work. Since Niecy is a teacher, the perfect opportunity was spring break.

Oh, the PLANNING! We don't just hop in a car and pull up at a casino and go in. No siree, Bob! We have to have an itinerary. I gathered my data, working on it for three nights. Okay. It was only 30 minutes per night. But still, I did my homework. Last Thursday, I called Sis to see if she was available to review the plan. You know, because I didn't want to arrive to find Sis gone and the cleaning lady inside.

When I put on T-Hoe's blinker to turn into Sis's driveway, I saw the Ex-Mayor in my rearview mirror. How much of a coincidence was THAT? Here I was, in dirty, dirty T-Hoe (caked with a winter's worth of road salt and dried mud), pulling into his pristine blacktop driveway. He popped open the garage door for me. Not to park in! Sweet Gummi Mary! No way would he let my jalopy inside his garage! It was simply so I had access to the kitchen door, their regular portal of entry. He already had both cars parked inside the garage, so I wasn't blocking him from his truck's spot at the top of the driveway.

"Hi! I'm here in my car that embarrasses you, to park in your driveway, in clear view of the neighbors, and establish residence and live in it as a squatter!"

The Ex-Mayor smiled and nodded, and motioned me inside. I'm pretty sure he didn't have his hearing aids turned up. He hollered for Sis, and we sat at the kitchen counter peninsula to hammer out the details of our mission.

I didn't hang a large map on the wall, and whack it with a riding crop for emphasis. But I was pretty close. I had a three-page chart of the 7 casinos we planned to visit, with offers for each, written on a timeline. Ex-Mayor handed me a copy of HIS research, which was a typed list of each casino's offers, and the times they were valid. Let the record show that we spent TWO HOURS on our plans! Okay, a little bit of time was gossip, and a little bit was reminiscing about previous CasinoPaloozas.

The Ex-Mayor offered me some tea, which I declined, not being a tea-drinker, and with 44 oz of Diet Coke in my future. That's when the visit spiraled out of control.

I'd made sure to take in my glasses, and copies of my timeline for each of us, along with two offers from a casino that I picked up from the mail on my way to town. What I'd forgotten was a Puffs Plus Lotion in my pocket. It was a warm day, and I'd left my jacket at home. So I didn't have a handy Puffs. Of course that day of springlike weather had triggered my sinuses to drip. I felt one coming on. Not a gush, just a drop. Strangely, those drops always end up at the TOP of my right nostril. If not dealt with, the drop won't merely flow onto my upper lip area. It will DRIP. Possibly onto a three-page casino itinerary laying on the counter.

"Oh, no! I forgot a Puffs! Do you have a tissue? My nose is going to drip."

"Well. I DO. But they're in the bathroom, and Ex-Mayor just went in there."

"That's okay. I can use my shirt sleeve. It's just a drip."

"Don't do that! I can give you a paper towel."

"Just a half. That's all I need."

"We are NOT like Mom! We don't use Select-A-Size. I don't like them."

"I don't need a WHOLE paper towel! Just a fourth of one will be fine."

"Here. I'm not tearing it."

So I dabbed at my nostril-top with a quarter of a full-size paper towel. I laid it on the counter on top of the other three fourths that I'd torn. The Ex-Mayor returned, and we resumed our planning. Should we make one big loop like usual, or drive to-and-fro to different casinos, depending on their offers? They're not more than a few miles apart. Farmer H doesn't mind backtracking. Then there was the question of whether to ride in one car to the casinos, or separately, yet together. Matters were further complicated by us staying at the same hotel the first night, but Farmer H and I moving to another one the second night, due to our FREE ROOM offers.

Oopsie! In reaching for a casino comps brochure, my dangling short sleeve knocked my paper towels off the counter. The Ex-Mayor was sitting on the stool next to me, and bent down, like a proper gentleman, to pick them up.

"Uh... I dabbed at my runny nose with one of them... but it's not very wet. Just kind of like touching a dog's nose."

Poor Ex-Mayor. He really does not like things to be unclean. I think I saw him recoil when I mentioned the drip. But he continued picking up my paper towel fourths, and put them back on the counter. I'm guessing that he didn't touch that one snot spot, or he might have squealed like Farmer H touching a hairless baby mouse in the pocket of his coveralls.

I left shortly after. Because I was ready. Not because I was thrown out on my ear.