Conspiracies

No truths, half truths, whole truths, you never know.

The other day our neighbor farmer asked if he can truck through our pasture when he hauls cattle.

“Sure,” I said, relieved that he at least asked permission and didn’t just assume that privilege.

Yesterday, though, we noticed the not-trespassing tractor trailer unloading…not cattle, but hay.

(Which is not a problem, really.)

On Monday I finally called our tenant about her July rent.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said when she returned the call. “I’m coming down to a town near yours tonight; can I stop by on my way home to drop off the check?”

When she pulled in, the check was from her grandmother, who lives in that town near ours. “And the toilet’s not working,” she said. “I put in a $10 part, but I think that’s not the problem, and I know what to try next.”

“I’ll see about coming up to check it,” I said. I looked at the check. “We should probably add on the late fee to this,” I said.

“Oh.” She’s had to pay it twice before. “How much is that?”

Totally not wanting to travel up the interstate again, I finally suggested that she take care of the rest of the toilet in lieu of paying the late fee. She jumped at the proposal; maybe that’s what she’d been getting at all along, which suits me fine, provided the toilet was actually broken.

(“Just ask her for the old parts,” a friend later suggested to me.)

Not that I’m above any of this truth-related telling:

Today the oil-fired boiler installers were smoking in our basement. I thought about asking them to keep the cigarettes away from the house, as “my wife has a deadly reaction to them.”

I didn’t work up the nerve, though.