I Smell Gas

So….last night, around 3:00 my wife woke me up, saying, “I can smell gas.”

“Gas?” I said, “It’s alright, it’s on me, I was working on the snowblower, I washed my hands but the smell won’t go away.”

“Well I can’t breath,” she said, “It stinks, there must be something leaking.”

“Nope, go to sleep” I said, trying to drive my head further under the nice warm comfy blankets….but oh no…that wasn’t to be….first she got up and opened the window. She got back in bed, but kept complaining and going on about how strong it was.

I couldn’t smell it, mostly because I had spent the day messed up with it.

“The garage is right underneath us.” she said, “There must be something leaking.”

She got up again, pulling half the blankets off with her and stuck her head out the window, breaking the screen in the process, sucking in large gulps of air.

So I got up. What else could I do? By now it’s about 3:30 in the morning, I went downstairs to the basement garage to check. I opened the door between the rec room and the garage and looked in, there was the SnowKing Snowblower, sitting there like I had left it. Looking all shiny and nice. I didn’t smell gas. I glanced around the room, all looked OK to me. I shut the lights off and headed back to bed.

By the time I got back upstairs she had her head right out the window, (no kidding) and was still complaining. So I thought it must be me. I started feeling a little self conscious…so albeit reluctantly at 3:45 in the morning, I got in the shower and soaped up with perfumy girl soap hoping to kill the smell.

After I got dried off, I headed back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around me, modest soul that I am….

“Let’s go downstairs and look.” she said, turning back inside from the open window. I think she had an icicle on her nose. “It’s getting worse…I’m not kidding…this is awful…we might have to go to a motel.”

“I’m not going to a motel at 4:00 in the morning.” I replied, with as much indignation as a man in a towel can muster.

“I didn’t mean you.” she said, “I meant me and the dog” She pointed to our little poodle, asleep on his pillow, still in bed, oblivious to the drama unfolding beside the bed.

“You better go down and check the garage.” she said, turning back to the window.

“I already did that.” I replied.

“Then let’s do it again, before we all die here, I’ll go with you.” she answered, and even though I protested, even though I told her we likely wouldn’t die from the smell of gas, because if we would, gas station attendants would be dropping like flies and they don’t seem to be. But, it’s my wife, she is the boss…and I her dutiful manservant…so off we go to the garage in the basement.

“I can smell it stronger down here.” she said, much to my chagrin.

She was acting like one of those ghost hunter psychic guys you see on TV, walking around the rec room. “Yes, yes…” she whispered, “It’s stronger down here, it’s here somewhere”

“Yeah.” I said, “It is, it’s out in the damm garage.” I opened the garage door and stepped inside, the smell wasn’t strong, at least not to me. She followed, nodding her head, as if she was having a vision.

“Open the big door.” she said, pointing to the sliding door. I grimaced. It was freezing cold outside, I was in a towel, and she wanted the door open….she was in a big fluffy housecoat….I opened the door….

“That thing must be leaking.” she said, now pointing at the snow blower with an accusing finger. “What did you do to it?” she said, turning that accusing finger in my direction.

Now it was something I did! Uh-huh…well…maybe….I did have the carburator bowl off trying to get the thing to start, maybe it wasn’t tight enough. So, still in my towel, which was now not only wet, but cold with the door open, I laid down on the floor and took hold of the carb bowl.

It was wet….uh-oh…I hadn’t shut the gas off….So I did that, without telling her. Then I took a wrench and tightened up the bolt that holds the bowl in place….too tight…I broke it off! The bowl dropped into my hand, along with the gas that was in it.

So now it is 4:00 in the morning…the gas is cleaned up….two windows open, furnace blasting…my snowblower is officially broken….my towel is on the floor….and I am back in the shower, trying to get the smell of gas off me.

My wife on the other hand, is tucked away in our warm bed…under the blankets…sleeping….

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5 thoughts on “I Smell Gas”

  1. I feel guilty laughing at your predicament, but this so reminded me of the Christmas Story when they stopped to change the flat tire. Don’t ask me why. I’m glad everything was finally resolved!

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