One fine afternoon about five years ago I changed the air intake filters, and then started looking for one more low-effort high-value task to complete before going back to my football game. I’d had a blitzkrieg morning of yardwork, so the day was already won, but I was enjoying the satisfaction of adding little stars.
I settled on checking the carbon monoxide detector. As usual, I checked the backup battery, vacuumed the sensor, and checked the peak level, which it stores. This time it had stored a peak level of 75 ppm. I was surprised, because it’s always been zero. Genuinely flummoxed, I ambled to the presence of my beloved.
“Hey Lea? The carbon monoxide detector stored a reading. We must have burned some food or something, do you think?”
Never looking up from her book, she replied “yeah, that or some drunk idiot ran the leaf blower in the house.”
We’d had two couples over for dinner and the Alabama-Oklahoma game a few weeks earlier. The game got largely hopeless, so Alex asked me if I’d gotten any interesting tools lately, and I showed him the leaf blower, and well…you know, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
If you think a leaf blower is loud outside, you ought to hear one in the breakfast nook.
Alex laughed pretty much uncontrollably for a good minute, so it was worth it.
My wife is witty.
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