Trouble in Paradise
The Road Less Traveled
And We’re Off
Check out my posts on my other site about our epic road trip adventure!
It’s a Black & White Problem
I know it’s been awhile. I haven’t traveled nearly as much as I used to the past couple years, so travel stories haven’t been as abundant.
However, I’ve realized even when life isn’t in the clouds, my Life On The Ledge still has things to share. Although the characters are different, the entertainment value is still strong.
So back by popular demand (or no demand at all) the all new view from my Life on the Ledge!
This story starts in the black of night.
Right before I’m headed off to bed, my trusty four footed companions decide to do their excited dance at the door. I figure the chances are about 90/10 that the dance is due to some uninvited visitor in the yard vs upset tummies that were going to wake me up in the middle of the night with the need to use the bathroom. I hesitate for a minute, but decide that despite the low odds, I really did not want to be woken up in the middle of the night, so I opened the door and let them out.
As soon as the door opened and they took off around the garage, I knew I played the wrong odds.
Sure enough, their run was soon accompanied by their “Oh, look! A new friend!” bark.
I gave it a minute or two, then called for them to come back in. Not only did they not appear, but I recognized their “Hey look! We want to show you what we found!” barks, so I grabbed my flashlight and decided to go look so we could all go to bed.
I came around the garage and the flashlight found the pups hanging out in front of the chicken coop.
Followed quickly by lighting the black and white fluffy friend running around inside the chicken run.
Luckily, when I gave a quick yell to the pups, they came running back to the house with me, and I decided our little skunk friend could show himself out.
Apparently, Pavi’s experience last year getting sprayed in the mouth by a skunk (Yes. Directly. In. The. Mouth) was enough for him to learn to leave the black and white kitties alone and he had avoided the spray.
Ember, however, had not had the chance to learn that lesson.
She seemed to only have gotten a glancing blow on her neck, though, which I quickly scrubbed with dish soap and vinegar before it could set in, and the smell remained quite mild, considering.
Bullet dodged.
So off to bed we go to a great night sleep.
Bright and early the next morning, we’re downstairs and ready to start the day.
Somehow, even before my coffee, my brain kicks in enough for me to think maybe I should just go double check that our guest had made his way back to his own home over night before I let the dogs out.
I was really glad I did, because sure enough, as the chicken coop comes into view, there is our Oreo colored friend, still running back and forth in the run.
Hmm. Why did he choose to stick around? Surely there are more exciting places to explore than my chicken run.
The chickens had dug a hole in the corner of the run, which I had covered with chicken wire to keep them from escaping, and I realize Oreo had pushed up under the wire from the outside to get in. But now that he was in, he was standing on the wire, so couldn’t burrow back under it to get out , so now he was trapped.
Which means now I have to get close enough to the coop to let him out.
My run has two sections to it, a larger one and a smaller one. Both sections have doors in them, and since Oreo is currently running back and forth in the smaller section, I decide my best bet is to open the door in the larger section.
So I very slowly make my way towards the door, keeping my eye on Oreo the whole way.
At first, he is too focused on his panicked pacing to notice me, but just as I get into range to touch the door, he stops and looks at me.
So I stop and look at him.
I figure as long as I’m seeing the two-eyed side of him, I’m safe. It’s the one-eyed side I need to avoid.
So I keep my eyes on him and slowly reach out and open the door.
Once I get it open, I quickly retreat around the corner of the barn, and watch from a safe distance.
But Oreo has just resumed his frantic pacing along the back stretch and seems unaware his path to freedom is behind him.
That’s fine. I’ll go inside, get some breakfast and coffee, and surely he’ll be gone by the time I’m done.
Except he isn’t.
I load the dogs into the car for our morning walk and go to check, and Oreo is still doing his military march on the back of the chicken run.
Now what?
I decide maybe I need to open the door that is closer to his pacing path.
And also about 3 ft from Oreo’s business end.
I find one of Pavi’s strategically placed, enormous sticks lying between me and the coop (Now I realize he wasn’t creating a mowing obstacle course, but a home defense system!), so I grab it and again slowly advance into the danger zone.
I use the stick to flip the latches on the door, but I can’t get the right angle to pull the door open with it, so I have no choice but to creep in and pull the door open.
But I make it! And now Oreo has a clear escape path just 3 ft behind him.
I take the dogs for our walk, and when we get back an hour later, this time I’m sure Oreo has moved on.
And yet again, I’m wrong.
Not only is Oreo still pacing the perimeter, one of the chickens, who had still been shut up in the inside coop, had somehow let herself out, and was now pacing around with our black and white friend.
2 doors standing wide open to the outside world, and both of them are just getting their steps in the cage.
Obviously time to regroup.
Oreo is now in the larger run area, but also under the inside coop. As far from the doors as it is possible to get. The chicken is hanging out by the open door, so I figure I need to shut the doors and figure out how to corral Matilda before I can continue trying to encourage Oreo to move on.
I decide if I can try to corral Matilda in the smaller area I might be able to grab her and remove her from the equation, so I go get some grain and throw it down in that area to lure her in.
Sure enough, she takes the bait.
But as soon as I open the little door to try to nab her, she squawks and runs the other way.
Straight at Oreo. And straight into his smelly shower.
Somehow, I still avoid becoming collateral damage, but now Matilda is not happy and squawking and flapping, and Oreo is even more agitated.
Perfect conditions to continue with Plan Rescue.
Matilda finally calms down enough to go back to the grain and I’m able to grab her.
So now I’m standing hugging a skunk stink chicken.
Somewhere along my quest of collecting useless trivia, I had remembered hearing that once a skunk sprays, they are unable to spray again until their supplies replenish, so I had googled that earlier in the morning to see if I might be able to use that to my advantage, knowing he had sprayed the dogs last night.
While it is true, they can actually spray 5-6 times before they deplete their supply.
So I do debate, for a minute, whether I should just throw the chicken at Oreo 4 more times to run him dry, but quickly decide I’m unlikely to come out of that plan unscathed.
I stuff Matilda back in the coop through the nest boxes and reach in and lock the door so none of the other girls get the bright idea of trying to join the party.
Then I swing the outside doors wide open again.
Meanwhile, Oreo continues his frantic marching.
Now what?
I grab what is left of my blackberries from the fridge and again venture back to the danger zone. I toss a handful of berries back towards Oreo and then strew the rest of them to the door and out.
There. Plan Hansel and Gretel is sure to work.
I head inside to give Oreo the room he needs.
An hour or so later, I again make my way out to the chicken coop. Only to see Oreo still running back and forth.
Really??
I had already tried a stick to attempt to prod Oreo towards the exit, but it wasn’t very effective through the wire of the run.
Which is how I find myself doing something I never thought I would be doing .
Throwing rocks at a skunk.
Oreo is still pacing as far away from the door as possible, so I start throwing rocks at the coop near Oreo to get him to move in the other direction.
And it works! Oreo runs to the other end of the run- right past the two open doors (and over all the blackberries) and resumes pacing on the other end.
Old Oreo is proving to be a formidable opponent.
Apparently Oreo is only going to go out the same way he came in.
Except now Oreo is pacing directly over the entry point.
So now I’m throwing rocks again to get Oreo back to the other end he just came from.
Once he is safely back at the far end- again- I move in, tug the wire out from the bottom of the run, prop up the corner with a piece of wood, and move in for the final volley.
Back to the other end of the run to throw rocks-again- to move Oreo back to his chance at freedom.
Finally!
Oreo gets back to open corner, slips back out under the coop, and disappears under the fence.
And I survived 3 hours of battle with a skunk without getting sprayed once.
Victory!
Hopefully chickens don’t have a strong sense of smell, because their coop was not so lucky.
How Pintrest Almost Killed My Father
I think we all have to admit Pintrest is a genius invention. I don’t know who had the brilliant idea to translate the cork boards every kid in the 80s and 90s had on their bedroom walls, filled with completely random and quickly forgotten items that could easily be punctured with a push pin, to a digital experience, but I wish it had been me.
Admittedly, my Pintrest account closely resembles those jumbled cork boards, and honestly, I use it more as a Google alternative now, to see what others may have pinned, but my Mom is a Pintrest guru.
I really don’t know how many cork boards she has, or how well organized her Pintrest is, but I do know she is Pintrest level Master when she actually sends me pins that she thinks will fill that empty spot on my cork board perfectly. I don’t even know how to do that.
And when I happen to mention something like “ you know I was thinking I need to pull together my alien invasion survival kit”, my Mom will be quick to respond with “oh, you should check out Pintrest! They have lots of great ideas on there”
And they do, btw. My personal favorite is the “6 tips to survive Alien invasion- A Dame’s Handbook”
One board I’m pretty sure my Mom has though, is “Essential Life Hacks You Can’t Live without”.
She always has a new time saver/make life easier trick she is trying out- one of the most recent ones involving a toilet brush.
During a Pintrest session, my Mom came across a pin containing the nifty life hack of sticking the toilet brush under the toilet seat to let it dry over the toilet after using it. So of course she decided to try this out the next time she scrubbed the toilets, and left the toilet brush safely secured under the seat in my parent’s master bath.
She however, neglected to let my Dad know about this hack, or about the toilet brush drying itself over the toilet.
My Dad, waking up sometime in the middle of the night, and doing what we all do, stumbled to the bathroom in the dark, most likely with eyes only partially open to prevent waking up too much during the journey.
And he barely survived the heart attack he nearly suffered when he found himself being attacked by a porcupine in his own bathroom in the dark in the middle of the night.
Luckily, “death by Pintrest” will not be on my father’s tombstone- this time.
And I’m pretty sure he has set up auto alerts anytime something is added to my Mom’s Life Hacks cork board.
The Rare Land Shoe Shark
This week has been a tough week. Not a horrible news, events that change your life kind of tough. But the nothing goes as planned, little fire drills everywhere, super busy but feeling like nothing got accomplished kind of tough.
So it seemed like a good Friday evening to spend at the beach.
The pups and I had been chasing sticks, splashing in the water and having a generally fabulous time for about 5 minutes or so, when we were joined by an older gentleman and his pup. I had met this guy a few times on our beach trips and always exchanged a few words, and then we both continued on our way, so I was hoping that’s what would happen this time. Not because I was especially anti social, but I had done enough talking to people for the week and really just wanted to throw sticks.
But he had other plans for the evening.
We started out just chit chatting about this and that, but soon he was sharing about all the time he had spent in the South Pacific, India and Asia back in the 80s. Ok, kind of a cool story and great adventure, so I was engaged. Pavi was slightly perturbed that my stick throwing was lagging somewhat with this interruption of conversation, but Ember was perfectly happy romping around with the new pup friend and annoying her brother.
And then suddenly the conversation shifted to aliens and UFOs and I found myself listening to his account of his up close and personal encounter with these beings while in Thailand.
I have to admit I was having a little trouble following the whole story, but I do know it entailed several people telling him he needed to put clothes back on, that he couldn’t be naked on he beach, him getting arrested while naked, aliens visiting him in jail and a gigantic white creature glowing with blue light appearing at the end of the pier
Apparently he made no connection between those events and the bag of whacky tobacky he had purchased from some random guy on the side of the road or the magic pills he apparently kept finding in his pocket and taking throughout this ordeal, but one has to wonder….
During this fascinating story, a group of 6, who I assumed was a family with older teen/ young adult children, had wandered down to the beach and were clustered just next to us. After a slight invitation from the daughter, my social Ember decided to act as the beach welcoming committee and pranced over to say hello to her new friends. They were delighted to meet her, and she ate up the attention. She even came back to grab a stick and returned to show them the quality of stick specimens our beach has to offer. Then it was back to romping with her brother and her new four legged friend.
My companion had wrapped up his alien story, but suddenly, as I just finish throwing a stick, he says “can I see your hand?” as he simultaneously grabs said hand.
Which is how I find myself getting my palm read on the beach.
While this is rather awkward, he seems harmless enough, if maybe a little lonely and maybe more than a little affected by the long term effects of whacky tobacky, so I decide to just let him stare at my palm lines for a minute or two and let him come up with whatever he thinks he sees.
Meanwhile, the family has decided to shed their footwear and go wading in the ocean.
If there is one thing my sweet little Ember cannot resist, it’s an abandoned shoe. More times than I can count, I have had to go in chase of a shoe, often into the yard with no shoes on. Even the split second they are left unattended while putting them on or taking them off, is too much for her to bear, and she feels the need to rescue the poor shoe from a life of abandonment.
And now there is a whole pile of unattended shoes just lying on the beach calling her name.
Just as I am about to find out about the 2 real loves of my life reflected in my palm, I see Ember streak past us straight into the pile of shoes.
Luckily, we’ve had lots of practice with “drop it!” and “bring it!”, so I was able to disengage my hand, while yelling these to her, and she dropped the shoe right on the water line before plunging into the ocean.
I returned the shoe to the pile while offering my apologies, but the family found the whole thing quite hilarious and were quite entertained by the whole ordeal. Just to be sure, Ember ran over to the dad, whose shoe I’m guessing it was, and offered a wet nose in his palm as an apology.
And now that family has a good story to write in their vacation blog.
And I will have to find another opportunity for a random beach palm reading to find out how long my lifeline is.
The Big Bad Wolf and the Scary Woods
I have two big dogs. And while I didn’t get them for protection, and they are both friendly to dogs and man, I always figured they’d be good to have on my side if ever we were to run into Big Scary Monsters.
Today I learned how true that is.
It’s been cold here this weekend, so we haven’t been venturing out for as many daily miles as normal. In fact, it was a balmy 2 degrees when we woke up this morning, so we decided to postpone our morning walk a little and hope for a little more red to appear on the thermometer.
By the time we ventured out around 10, it had warmed up 6 times over to a much more reasonable 12 degrees. And since it was also nice and sunny, it felt like at least 13.
We had done a nice vigorous hike through the woods to get our body temp up, and Pavi had rearranged the forest by moving a few trees from here to there to keep his blood pumping, and were heading back to the car.
We had come out of the woods and were crossing the field to the parking lot, when Pavi, my big, intimidating, 95 pound black Shepherd, suddenly stops dead and stares intently into the woods.
Then the hackles all the way down his back go up and he starts barking at whatever he is staring at.
I walk up next to him and prepare myself for an enormous porcupine, or coyote, or wooly mammoth or BigFoot himself to charge out at us.
But nothing happens.
After a few more seconds pass with no monster emerging from the woods, I start to relax.
But my furry 4 footed companion has not.
And now he’s added a little lunge forward/ leap back move to his armor.
This helps me pinpoint the Big Scary Monster.
Someone had rolled a big ball of snow, like the bottom of a snowman, through the field and left it beside the trail.
And this Monster Snowball had set off all the alarms and sent my ultra tough protector into DefCon 5 mode.
It wasn’t until I went and sat on the snowball and finally lured my watchdog in with treats, so he could neutralize the threat, that we could finally continue down the trail and back to our car.
I don’t know what will happen if we ever do encounter Big Foot, but at least I know I am safe from snowballs.
Protect the Family Jewels
This weekend my niece turned 5. And you can’t turn 5 without all the presents.
You just can’t!
So the pups and I headed out for a road trip yesterday morning for the 2.5 hour drive to my parents house.
I have a nice big car for my little monsters, and one of those cargo gates in my car, to keep those monsters in their area, and we have taken many a road trip (including one all the way cross country) with this set up without any issues.
Everything with this road trip started out in much the same way. But about an hour into our trip, things started to go in a different direction.
All of a sudden, my boy Pavi, starts pacing around in the back, whining and basically freaking out.
Strange. He sometimes gets a little antsy on a long ride, but not like this.
I try to talk to him from behind the wheel and get him to calm down, but he doesn’t, and now he’s trying to climb over the grate barrier into the back seat. Meanwhile, I’m trying to talk, then coax, then adamantly insist that he knock it off and stay in the back, all while hurtling down the highway at 75 mph.
Needless to say, none of that works, and within a few minutes, Pavi is halfway over the barrier, but since he is literally a monster, he can’t get the rest of the way over and is now stuck half in the back and half in the backseat, and now is truly frustrated.
I decide I have no choice but to get off the highway at the next exit, find a place to park and get him unstuck.
I pull into the back of a motel parking lot, get out of the drivers seat and open the back door to figure out how best to unstick my dog.
I decide the best route is to try to get him fully into the back seat -which is full of presents, dog gear and all our stuff, btw, and is making it even harder for him to find solid footing to squeeze through the small gap between the ceiling and the cargo barrier. I put his leash on him and proceed to try to assist him up and over.
I just start gently tugging and trying to coax him over, when something odd catches my eye.
Why does Pavi suddenly seem to have an extra appendage trying to make the trip over the barrier?
It takes me only a couple of seconds to realize that, indeed, my buddy’s “wee Willy winkey” is in fact tangled in the barrier grate.
Precisely at the same moment that he starts to howl in discomfort.
Now I have no idea how this appendage came to be tangled in the gate, or why the pen was even out of the case at this moment, but I don’t have much time to consider that, because full blown panic is starting to set in for Mr. Magoo, and he is wriggling something fierce to get himself out of this situation which is only going to end very, very badly.
So I do the only thing I can do.
I reach in and untangle the family jewels just before Pavi makes the final push into the back seat and out the door.
We spend a few minutes walking around outside, mainly to lower both of our blood pressure’s, but also because I still don’t know what set this all off in the first place, so I’m expecting expulsion of some sort of bodily fluids on top of all that fun, but nope. He seems fine now.
So we head to the back of the car to load up and get back on the road.
As soon as I open the back, it is evident what set off this series of events.
One of my two monsters has vomited all over the blanket I have covering the cargo space, and Pavi is adamant he is not going to spend the rest of the road trip riding in those conditions.
I decide, after all this drama, him riding shotgun for the rest of the trip is not the worst that can happen, so I open the passenger door and he happily climbs in.
I climb back in behind the wheel, and look over to set some ground rules about where his turf stops and my starts, only to notice that poor “Little Pavi” is now resembling our famous east coast red hot dogs, swollen to the size of a kielbasa.
That can’t be good.
I’m neither male, nor a veterinarian, but I know enough that this could be bad enough to warrant medical attention if it stays this way or gets worse.
And it’s Saturday, when all normal vets are closed, and I’m an hour from home and an hour and a half from my parents, and no idea where there might be any emergency vets on that route.
I make a call to my dad and my sister, they do some quick Google work and send me the info for a couple emergency vets along the way, and I decide since the big guy doesn’t seem to be in any obvious distress at the moment, we’d keep going and hopefully make it to one of the emergency vets before we had a full blown emergency.
Luckily, after several minutes, Little Pavi returned to normal size and returned himself to his shell, Big Pavi had calmed down and didn’t seem to be in pain, and a larger crisis seemed to have been avoided.
And lucky for Pavi, there were no plans to put those Family Jewels to use at any time in the future, so all’s well that ends well, as they say.
Do the Thing & You Will Have the Power*
Anyone who knows me, knows that winter is not my favorite time of year. Many of you may wonder why I would choose to move back to Maine, or even more, how I grew up in Maine and then lived in Colorado for 20 years, and not like winter, but the fact remains winter is my least favorite season. I have been told living on the coast of Maine results in us having less snowfall than the rest of the state, which I will admit was a huge plus in my book.
What I was not told, however, was that thanks to our lovely coastal breezes, we do experience coastal gales that seem to wreak more havoc than snow.
When I first moved here and spent some time wandering the neighborhood and exploring with my faithful four legged companions, I started to notice that a large majority of my neighbors up and down the street had generators attached to their houses. I decided some investigative research might be in order, and decided to start polling my neighbors.
Sure enough, the resounding results of this survey was that Yes!! a generator was a must living here. Not only did the coastal gales knock out power on a regular enough basis, but evidently when power did go out, we were also low on the priority list for getting that power restored, living way down here on our peninsula and all.
I have never had (or needed) a generator before, but I decided to embrace coastal living and call in the experts. I connected with an electrician, scoped out the perfect generator to meet all my electricity needs, and put in my order.
Back in June.
I was told the generator would be delivered by mid August and installed by the end of that month, in plenty of time for gale season.
But this is 2020. So of course that didn’t happen.
When I still hadn’t heard anything from my electrician by the last week of August, I decided to reach out. He replied that he was going to be off the following week for Labor Day, but they could come out to get the work done the week following. Great!
The Monday after Labor Day I reach out again to find out when I might be on their schedule for that week. I am told Wednesday at 9am.
Wednesday at 9am arrives, but my electrician and my generator do not. Nor have they arrived by 11am. So I take to text again, with a patient inquiry about when they might be popping by. I am told by 1pm.
I know you know that if I am writing this, this is not what happened.
1pm comes and goes, and after yet another text to try to figure out what is going on, I am told that “Oops! I thought you were another customer, and we are now at their house doing their work, and so sorry, but we won’t make it to you today after all.”
Let’s just say the next few texts weren’t exactly patient inquiries, but we finally come around to the idea that they will be at my house the following Monday afternoon at 1:30.
This time, wonders of wonders, 1:30 actually brings electricians to my door. I also had some work they were going to do in my barn at the same time, so he says they’ll start with that, to which I reply “Great, and then we can talk about where you want to put the generator.”
“Oh, we don’t have your generator” is what I get in response.
I give him my signature blink, and say “I thought that was why you came out today”
“We have no idea when we are going to get the generator. The factories are completely backed up due to COVID and just can’t make them fast enough, so they have no idea when they are going to have any to ship out”
Is it just me, or does anyone else feel like there might be a small lack of communication occurring here?
He goes on to say, “We are telling all our customers they can cancel their orders and get their money back, but you aren’t going to be able to find any anywhere else either. Or you can continue to wait. Right now they are saying hopefully mid October”
I decide I don’t have much choice but to wait, but you can believe I jumped on the phone trying to find anyplace that might have a generator hidden in their back room or a better time line to report, but of course I didn’t .
Fast forward to mid October, when I am again told, nope, no generator. Now maybe end of December, but who knows. This time he throws in the extra caveat that they are offering free hook ups on portable generators to all their customers if they choose to go that route. But I might want to get on that ASAP if I wanted one, because the first big storm that knocked out power and those would all be gone too.
So now I find myself shopping for yet another generator.
I find one that gets great reviews, is big enough to handle all my devices and gets a thumbs up from the electrician, so I order it.
It ships the next day and is supposed to arrive the following Wednesday. My electrician is on standby to install it on Thursday, and I will be ready for all the gales the coast wants to send my way!
On Tuesday I get the tracking notice that my generator has arrived in Portland, and is on track to be delivered the following day.
Again, Wednesday comes, but does not bring my generator with it. Nor does Thursday.
You all know by now, that I did not just take this lying down.
By Friday I had talked to at least 5 different people at each of the freight delivery company that got it to Portland, the “Last Mile” delivery company that was supposed to get it from Portland to my house, and HomeDepot corporate offices. I had reached high level managers at each company, had their direct cell numbers, and had all of them calling each other to figure out what was going on with my generator.
Home Depot had a local store associate who was going to pick it up and drive it to me. The “last mile” delivery manager physically drove to the freight dock, saw my generator, tried to pick it up to ensure it was put on their truck the next day.
And still, my generator sat on a loading dock 45 min away from my house for a week.
The freight company finally guarantees the last mile company they’ll have it to them “first thing in the morning” on the Thursday before Thanksgiving, and the last mile company guarantees me they’ll have it to me by end of day.
The generator arrives at the Last Mile at 2pm- (Can I just pause to say the reason the freight company is so backed up might be because they consider 2pm “first thing in the morning”??) – but they come through and still get it to me by end of day. Whew!
Now to get the thing installed.
Through all this, I’ve been talking with my electrician and he has assured me they would have me up and running by Thanksgiving if it arrives by the end of the week. I let him know I have it, and he says they’ll be there Monday or Tuesday.
Again, I know I don’t need to spell it out for you…. Thanksgiving comes and my generator is still sitting in it’s box outside my front door.
And we lose power the Sunday after Thanksgiving.
I have now purchased 2 generators, and still spend 17 hours without power or water or heat.
My less and less patient texts finally secure an appointment for the install the following Monday.
I really wish I could say that was the end of the story.
They do show up to do the install, but as soon as he takes the generator out of the box, he turns to me and says “Do you have the cord?”
Because of course. Why would the generator actually come with the cord?
I make a flying run to town to buy literally the last generator cord in stock anywhere in town, get back just as they are finishing the install, get my tutorial on what breaker to throw and button to push when and in what order, and finally have a working generator.
Just in time to lose power again 7 hours later.
I am out in the pouring rain, gusting winds and pitch dark with two flashlights that I can’t get to work, trying to hold my iPhone in my mouth so I can see to get the “cord sold separately” plugged in so I can start the thing, but of course this isn’t a typical cord, and I’m a generator newbie, and I cannot figure out how to plug it in. I am stuck at step one.
After an “I don’t think the cord fits” text to my electrician and a desperate FaceTime call with my dad, I finally get it plugged in, get it started and survive the remainder of the 27 hour outage with all the modern comforts.
And thanks to another 24 hours without power 3 days later, I am now a seasoned generator owner and operator.
Maybe someday I’ll actually get my original generator too…
*Ralph Waldo Emerson
my30,000footview 