wait, those socks weren't red?!

Finally Flakey landscaping customer texted Tank.  She was in Milwaukee at a wedding and had not realized that they had a set appointment.  He could not just show up to do the work. She had to be there. Besides, she found someone else who could do more stuff that she needed done. 

Well, this is a fine time to tell a 16 year old kid that you are cancelling. He could have caddied and made close to $100. I made him pull up her prior text messages so that I could inspect.  I know that Tank is not the best communicator, so I wanted to check it out. It looked to me as though they had a set appointment. Bull Shit! I instructed him to text her back and let her know that she would be charged a $20 cancellation fee.  This was a small price to pay, but I wanted her to grasp that she had messed up his day.  

Tank drafted a message that I edited BIG TIME.  Then he called his afternoon gig and made plans to go there earlier.  He sometimes pays his friends to drive him to these gigs, because he cannot always rely on me being available to drive him places.  Before you judge me for not being available to him, understand that he also struggles to time these jobs well enough to know when he is going to need a ride. I drive him when I can. His buddy dropped him off at his job, and I drove to the pool to try to snooze (remember me being tired and on a mission to get a few rays before picking up from dancing?).

I wasn’t poolside 20 minutes and Tank called.  ‘Yeah, so this lady thinks I need stitches. I think it is going to be fine, but I was cutting something and the blade slipped and it hit my shin.  She sprayed some of that germ stuff on it. She’s kind of freaking out. I just wanted to finish the job, but I told her I would call for a ride.’ 

I had to leave to get Curly in a few minutes and I was picking up other dancers.  I could not be late. I asked him where he was, and I told him I would call Coach.  Coach’s physical therapy clinic is across the street from the country club, so he sometimes works out at the health club and then goes to his office to get things done while he waits for caddies to text him to say they are ready for a ride.  They usually have a car at the course, but they don’t always finish at the same time.  

Coach told me he was about to pick up Mini and he was working on payroll while he waited.  He wanted Tank to text him the address and he would get him soon. Coach is the rub-dirt-in-it kind of guy, so if the wound was questionable I knew he would air on the side of ‘Ah, looks OK to me.’  You all remember my passing out history? Better for everyone, if I kept my distance. 

On the way home from my lengthy commute to dancing, I texted Coach from a stoplight.  ‘Stitches?’ Coach responded, ‘Oh yeah.’ Tank later told me his customer was worried he was going to bleed out and he had to keep reassuring her that he was OK.  I think our lack of emergent response did not impress her.  

This is the pic that Curly wanted to see,
 but was denied when she would not allow
Tank (who I suspect pulls her hair)
 to touch her mop.

Once home I asked to see the photos of the injury that was now all closed up with 4 stitches.  Tank showed me the picture on his phone and proudly stated, ‘The doctor at urgent care said he had never seen such a deep cut.’  Swell. Apparently he had been using a small landscaping saw to cut a branch of something and it slipped off of the branch. He stabbed himself right in the shin.  

Curly asked to see the picture.  He bargained with her: ‘Only if you let me touch your hair two times.’  Curly is like a poodle to the touch and her hair is DELIGHTFUL to play with. She will literally let anyone touch her hair.  She enjoys it, but NOT Tank. That was a deal breaker. No hair touches were granted to the wounded landscaper, so he would not show her the picture. I think Tank has a tendency to pull her hair while the rest of her admirers use extreme gentleness.

I don't mind a laundry challenge, but this is extreme.  

Me:  ‘Good thing you were wearing red socks.’  

Tanks:  ‘Oh, those weren’t red.’ 

And, again I ask: Why can't you just caddy? Heavy sigh.