The generator lives at the side of the house, jammed in with the left over timber, buckets, shovels and mops. It has a tendency to grow legs and walk when left in view, so we have wrapped it up like a present in one of Tom’s discarded paintings. We didn’t foresee our enthusiasm for green smoothies when designing the house, so an easily accessible generator shed wasn’t on the plan.
The usual regime is, I get the ingredients for the smoothie ready while Tom the “Genny Boy” cranks up the “fumigator.” This arvo I took charge of the pull cord, knocked the shovel, which knocked the sledgehammer, which fell onto my head. Ohh yeah, that hurts.