When I brought The Pony out for our Labor Day cookout, we both noticed an odd smell in the garage. It was quite strong. I attributed it to Hick. Not that he emits a strong odor, but that I figured he must have sprayed something in the garage.
Hick mixes up weed-killer and treats his toe-catching uneven brick sidewalk that adjoins the concrete sidewalk to the garage door. And he'd just recently said he was finding dead mice in the garage. Though why he would spray for weeds in a garage, or spray to kill already-dead mice, I can't explain. Other than he's Hick.
A couple days ago, Hick came out to the garage to carry in some light groceries. He's been certified for lifting by his surgeon after a follow-up appointment.
"Oh, that smell you and Pony complained about? It's the gas in the generator turning into turpentine."
Well. Isn't that a fine kettle of fish! We had that power outage recently, and even IF we had known there would be 13 hours without electricity, Hick could not have started up our generator anyway!
You'd think that Hick would be using his spare time to drain out that bad gas and get the generator in working condition. You know, just in case we have another power outage.
Nope. I guess he's too busy eating Harem cake.
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