nixtress's Diaryland Diary

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The Ice God and coming snowstorms

The Ice God came in tonight. The one who helped me fix the cruddy ice machine ages ago. Our running schtick is that he's grumpy and I'm not. I smile way too much and he tries really hard to pretend that it irritates him. Typically, he's pretty quiet, with an occasional smartass comment or two.
Tonight, he got his cuppa and stood in front of the lottery row then proceeded to play word games with me. When I asked what he needed, he said it wasn't what he needed. I asked then, what he wanted. And he grinned an evil grin. I then changed the topic to something lottery-related (because that's what nice girls do when trying not to flirt). He settled into looking at the tickets and, being the good little clerk that I am, I tried suggesting one of the tickets. That set us off on yet another tangent of innuendo, because the damned tickets were called Scratch Happy. He bought ten of them, deciding he'd like to be happy while he scratched (his words). The typical small talk occurred as I processed his purchases. I asked if he was ready for the coming snow, and he said he'd just come back from Iowa, which in no way answered my question. Knowing this, he smirked at me and I had to ask what the hell he was doing in Iowa. Apparently, he gets paid really frickin' well to drive around and install, of all things, car wash equipment. Ice God then said he was looking forward to getting out of his big red truck and onto the couch. I told him to get happy scratching and enjoy lying on the couch and his reply was that he'd rather be getting happy scratching someone else's itch. Then he tromped off through the doors.
I pondered this conversation many times after he took his leave and had to grin every time. There's something sort of funny (fun) about having an ongoing schtick of this type with someone. I don't know his name, probably won't ever. He's just the Ice God, the grumpy guy. Sort of like the old guy with the hump on his back who comes in and asks for a paper sack when he buys his newspapers. Or the tall lady with the cell phone perpetually glued to her ear as she talks medical jargon about each and every patient she's seen, all the while pantomiming her wants. And even the gross, dim-witted, stinky guy who comes in and drools all over his Diet Pepsi and cartons of cheap cigarettes. Nameless people made unique by circumstance or details, right?
Right. Flirting had nothing to do with it.
***
Speaking of snow, we're heading into another bout of it. TheLyingWeathermen are calling for 3-5 inches tomorrow and several more tomorrow night. The new superintendent will probably call off school again. God forbid we have more than an inch at a time! *gasp* NOT in Ohio!
Enough snarkiness. I'll most likely have boys to entertain tomorrow. Not so bad. They had a rough weekend. J decided, mid-overnighter, that he didn't want to spend the night. Trevor was okay, remarkably, but Ryan thought perhaps J didn't like him anymore and his feelings were hurt. I had to tell both of them that J comes from a household that doesn't make him go to bed at a normal time and runs a little differently than we do (Mom-ese for they're a bunch of wackjobs up there). He was fine until I told them they'd be going to bed at midnight, then he decided he wanted to go home. I think he just wasn't ready for bed and chose this way out. Can't Eat and Can't Poop reported the next day that J didn't go to bed till almost three o'clock in the morning. They let him play his PS2 until he falls asleep, controller in hand, instead of telling him firmly "bedtime!"
Oh, well. Not my kid.
Happy Sunday.
N.

11:11 p.m. - 2005-02-27

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