Wednesday, March 16, 2011


I have my masters degree from one of the best business schools in the universe.  I am no genius, but I'm a smart person.  I'm confident in proclaiming: I'm no dummy, BUT, regardless of my intellectual capability, I can't start the freakin' gas blower, and it makes me furious. FURIOUS.  I am reduced to the mental capacity of a baboon when I attempt to fire up the blower.

My first challenge is that I can't ever remember what's the on or off position of the switch since it has a "o" and a "l" at each end.  Why isn't it labeled "on" or "off"?!  My second challenge is that I have no freakin' idea how to use the choke.  I just pull and push on the choke in between my yanks of the pullstart in hopes of finding the correct combo.

It makes my blood pressure roar when I try to start the gas blower.  ROAR!  I want to take it and beat it against the concrete until it starts.  I want to take it and toss it into the alley and hope it gets run over by a truck.  But most of all I want it to start for me like it always starts for my husband.  I feel so defeated.  The porch will have to stay messy until my husband returns from his business trip.  I give up.  Damn you gas blower!

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