Friday, March 29, 2024

A Heartbreaking Quirk of Staggering Unfairness

My heart broke a little more on Thursday, when I got a text from The Pony before noon. I'd been dreading it. Every time my phone buzzed, I had a feeling it was something bad about The Pony. I don't feel like that every day, but since I had talked to The Pony at 6:00 a.m., I felt that way on Thursday. With each check of the phone I was relieved that it was someone else. Yet the next buzz would put me in a panic again. Finally, the shoe dropped.

"Well. Guess what happened again."

I got a brief glimpse of the picture before I put my glasses on. My mind kept assuring itself that The Pony had merely fallen and skinned a knee. My mind was a dirty dirty liar. When I looked at the picture, I felt a wave of heat and weakness flood my body. I guess it was adrenaline.


"NOOOOOO!"

"I should probably report it but I don't want to deal with that again and I've already got the antibiotic ointment since the other isn't even healed yet."


"Rabies info?"

"Guy said they're vaccinated. Good enough for me. Little yappy thing that jumped up. Because some people with boxes on their porch just can't wait until I'm outside the fence to get their mail."

"Well. Small chance of a house dog having rabies, anyway. That's gonna bruise."

"Just don't know how much longer I can deal with this."

"At least you've had a tetanus shot, and know the treatment protocol. I don't have a solution."

"Not any good solutions, yeah."

"Maybe bid on another route?"

"Next one coming open is worse. It has the druggy part by the produce distributor being sued for not paying the non-citizens enough, plus the Nazi tattoo shop."

"Forget THAT!"

Just before 5:00, The Pony sent another picture:


"Update after bandaging."

"Dang, that bruised fast! You can see the other teeth pressure points."

"It hurts. I think this one was, like, a French bulldog."

"They can't breathe right! And can't have pups without a C-section. Maybe biting is their forte." [Let the record show that the sole source of my knowledge is what I've seen on The Incredible Dr. Pol.]

"I guess. I don't know what else can go wrong this month!"

Around 8:00, The Pony sent me a bedtime picture. Shows off his mailman's tan, too!


"Not even 12 hours yet. I'm just gonna rest and hopefully wake up in time to test how stiff the leg is as the bruise keeps developing. We'll see how it goes."

Poor, poor, Pony! It's not the dogs' fault. They are just doing what dogs do. Protecting their people because somebody is in the yard or on the porch. It's the owners who deserve the blame, for putting the dog and the mailman in that situation.

The Pony DID report the incident to his manager right after it happened. The Universe owes The Pony an apology. This is two bites in two weeks. 

Thursday, March 28, 2024

Hopefully, a Case of Unneeded Sympathy

Hick is generally not in need of sympathy. Good thing, because he sure doesn't get it from me! Hick makes his own things happen, racking up good karma and reaping the benefits in freebies and help from his (sometimes newfound) friends. Still, Hick wouldn't be considered to have "good luck." He can't buy a winning scratcher, and can't win at regular bingo. Though he does have success beating the armpit-waist pants off the elderlies.

Anyhoo... as I type this, Hick is at a doctor's appointment. It has been scheduled for at least six months. It's 30-45 minutes away, at 9:45. Normally, it wouldn't be an issue for Hick, other than keeping him from working on the Beauty Shop renovation. Because such appointments usually involve cooling one's heels in the waiting room for a while, and then again in the exam room until the doctor is available, this visit eats up a lot of time. Which prevents Hick from eating at the Senior Center. They close at noon. Heh, heh, I guess it's true about the elderlies always eating early.

Anyhoo... while Hick was pre-cooling his heels on the long couch this morning, I asked what was for lunch. I'd forgotten the time of his appointment.

"I don't know if I'll be able to make it if my appointment takes too long. I'd have to leave there by 11:00 to get back in time. We're having ham. It's Easter dinner."

"Ohh! That's too bad. Can't they save you a plate?"

"She said they would if I call. But I don't know if I can get there in time to get it before they close."

"Surely they could keep it until tomorrow. I know they're not supposed to save food. But it would be just for you. If you had it at home, you'd save it for a day in the refrigerator."

"Yeah. I don't know."

Poor Hick. He doesn't ask for much. Well. Except an extra tractor, and five lawnmowers, and a freight container garage with a car lift that has never been used, and some cast-off shipping pallets. But he loves his senior lunches. Seems like he missed another holiday dinner due to a different appointment with a different doctor last year. 

I really hope Hick gets his ham.
______________________________________________________________

UPDATE!

Hick was able to get to the Senior Center by 11:15, to enjoy his ham dinner. He didn't take a picture! 

"It was a slice of ham, pretty thick. And green beans that was more than just green beans, like there was something in them."

"Like green bean casserole? Maybe with mushroom soup? What about fried onions on top?"

"Yeah. That might be it. But no onions. And we had potatoes. Some kind of stringy potatoes, and they was about like the green beans, with something in them."

"Stringy? Like shredded hash browns?"

"Uh huh. And cake."

"Wait. You still have a compartment on your tray with nothing in it. Did you have a roll?"

"Oh, yeah. A roll."

"What kind of cake."

"I don't know. Just cake. It had white icing."

"No flavor? Did it have any color?"

"It was kind of pink."

"So maybe strawberry something mixed in."

"Maybe."

I don't know about you, but Hick's Easter dinner doesn't sound all that great!

Wednesday, March 27, 2024

Hick Would Be Having Flashbacks Of Linguine With Clam Sauce

Many years ago, when we were first married, and living in my $17,000 house in town... Hick volunteered to go to the store for me. It was the days before cell phones. I gave him a list. Yet he returned home with not one item on that list, having spent $35 in 1990 money. Most of his haul was cookies and snacks. Yet he had also bought himself a TV dinner that was Linguine With Clam Sauce. 

I have no idea why Hick wanted that TV dinner. He's not a seafood aficionado, and the young HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) and The (little future) Veteran seemed to like my cooking just fine when they stayed with us on weekends and for the summer. Anyhoo... Hick ate his TV dinner, and was sick for days! He turned a shade of green that I didn't know existed in humans. I told him that's what he got, for eating something with clam sauce in a landlocked location. Even though the "freezing" part should have provided safety.

Now comes The Pony, apparently grown out of his days when he only ate chicken nuggets and hot dogs and bread with butter and jelly. He told me to guess what he had for supper a couple days ago. I could not. So he sent me a picture:


NOOOO! Glowing in the light of The Pony's computer is SUSHI! My stomach did a routine that would be the envy of an Olympic gymnast! Looks like The Pony had the California Roll. Where, you might ask, would The Pony get such an item in the midwest?


At the grocery store, of course. And it's MARKED DOWN! At the store known for selling expired items if you're dumb enough not to check the dates!

I don't know if The Pony turned green. I do know that he was having a bit of an intestinal issue with gasses, not solids.

At least he didn't buy it at a gas station.

Tuesday, March 26, 2024

Hick the Do-Gooder Drives Again

A couple weeks ago, one of Hick's buddies talked to him down at the SUS2 (Storage Unit Store 2). Said he had been to the eye doctor because he was having issues. Seeing squares over things, needing to tilt his head to the side to see better. The local eye doctor referred him to a doctor in the city. But he didn't have a way to get there.

Hick said he would take him to the city for his appointment. Eye Buddy said he didn't want to impose. He'd find a way to get there. It's an hour drive from here. An hour twenty minutes from the SUS2.

A couple days ago, Eye Buddy talked to Hick again.

"I know I said I didn't need you to take me to my eye appointment. But I really don't have any other way to do it. I hate to ask, but I don't think I can get there any other way."

"I said I'd take you, and I will. It's not big thing. Not a problem. Just let me know the day and time."

Hick says it is sometime next month. He doesn't mind at all. Must be all that good karma that brings Hick so many freebies.

Monday, March 25, 2024

Not-Heaven Hath No Fury Like a Hick Un-Affirmed

Hick was almost apoplectic last week, having a hissy-fit over that business behind the Gas Station Chicken Store that distributes the Amazon packages to re-sellers.

"Have you looked at it? They have tons of pallets stacked on the side and behind the building! I don't know what they plan to do with them. It looks like they're just going to keep putting them there. That's a fire hazard! I called the city and told them about the pallets. They didn't seem very concerned. Alls they said was that 'they'll look into it.' I'd love to have the wood from them pallets. They shouldn't be able to pile them there."

"I haven't noticed it. I'm more concerned with not being able to see when I try to pull out of that road. AND all the vehicles that park along the alley, making it hard for traffic to get through."

So... the next time I was at the Gas Station Chicken Store, I DID notice all those pallets. Here's a view from the FREE AIR parking space in front of my rightful handicap parking space:


This was during a lull. When the pallets full of stuff were gone from the back field, and from in front of the business where they block the view of traffic. Lots of pallets there.


A LOT OF PALLETS! I don't know if the city has any ordinances about storing pallets. 

I do know that when Hick talks about them, his eyes might as well reflect several themed sheds constructed with that wood. Hick used to bid on the discarded pallets at his workplace, to keep them from being hauled off to the landfill. Well. It's not like Hick was concerned with the environment and recycling. He just wanted construction materials for his themed sheds.

Sunday, March 24, 2024

Well, Surprise, Surprise

Another text from The Pony on Saturday afternoon:

"Same house. That's a nope."

"OMG! A pack awaits!"

"One is leashed, one is a puppy, two are loose."

"Still, two against one plus a satchel."


Seriously, why would somebody leash ONE dog, and not the other three? Is that one the biter? Doesn't make sense. All or nothing should be the rule.

In other news, Hick sent me a text at 3:18:

"I have  surprise for you when I get home."

Well. That's a warning or a blessing!

"That's good. Will it affect supper? I'm thawing some peas."

"No. It won't."

Huh. So it could be news of something we've been fretting about or looking forward to. Or it could be a treat somebody gave him. You never know with Hick. He thinks I'm a mind reader, though sometimes he doesn't give me much to read.

This time it was a GOOD surprise! Hick brought me two halves of a soft pretzel! That's on a small paper plate, not the large version.


When he brought it home for the reveal, I had already put some generic store brand sour cream and cheese potato chips in a bowl for my snack with a Diet Shasta Cola for a treat while scratching my lottery tickets. I promptly poured that bowl of chips back into the bag.

Hick's treat was delicious. I was planning to have the other half later, since those soft pretzels get rock-hard if you save them until the next day.

In other news... Hick took the individual bag of flavored popcorn that he had "given me" a few days earlier. That's okay. The picture on the bag showed that it was drizzled with chocolate and peppermint. Probably left from Christmas. And I'm not a big fan of peppermint.

Hick's was a nice surprise. The Pony's text was no surprise at all.

Saturday, March 23, 2024

The Pony Is No Dumb Bunny

The Pony sent me a text and picture on Friday afternoon. Let the record show that it was 10 days after he suffered a dog bite on the job. Still had a couple of antibiotic pills remaining to take from that injury.

"Eff people! Four unleashed dogs = four streets on that loop not getting mail."

"Serves them right!"

"Yeah. Worst house on the route. Has one of those loose at least once a week, is the house where one snapped its leash. It's two houses down from where I park for the loop, so when they're loose, none of the places get mail unless I have time to dismount the three other streets. Since there's no way to walk them without going by that house."

Also let the record show that there's a leash law in the city of Backroads, which is where The Pony delivers mail. The Pony's manager has complained to the city numerous times about them having a dog problem. Which they deny.


This picture was taken out the window of The Pony's USPS vehicle. 


I see three dogs there when I zoom in. Maybe I missed the fourth, but two of these dogs are pretty big. Nothing I would want jumping on me or taking a chomp on my extremities. Postal workers can fill out a dog card or cite animal interference when wildlife or tame life make them feel unsafe to deliver the mail.

Not sure how much I updated The Pony's injuries, but here's what his bites looked like four days after the last attack:


The Pony said the ointment he got at Urgent Care made the wound look dried-out and scabby. The puncture was still leaking fluid, and hurt a lot. With his hand not "feeling right" when gripping the mail. Like a delay in getting the sensation.


The upper arm injury was also part of the bite. The Pony first thought it was just a scratch from a paw, but in re-enacting the event, determined that it was actually a bite. 

"When I bend my arm like I had it during the attack, the lower and upper arm line up exactly to make one bite."

USPS policy is for carriers to put their mail satchel between themselves and a biting dog. They are told this during their training. I thought it was from days when satchels were actually leather, and could provide protection. The Pony says the nylon satchels are effective if you have time to use it as taught.

"We're supposed to put our arm down in the satchel. It's even better if we have a lot of mail in there. It acts as padding so the dog can't get a grip. But even without mail, it will keep the bite from being worse. I barely had time to get my satchel up. But that dog couldn't get a good bite, except for that one tooth. I was lucky the people were there to get it off me, and that it didn't knock me down when it jumped to bite me."

Anyhoo... I can understand how The Pony might be dog-shy so soon after his attack, with his wounds not yet completely healed. But it's also common sense that you don't get out and traipse across the territory of three loose dogs when you don't know their temperament or rabies vaccination status.

There's a reason several streets in Backroads were denied home mail delivery a year or two ago, and a set of outdoor post office boxes built for them to receive mail. It's a case of the few impeding the rights of the many.