As I sat down this afternoon, in a chair so old the springs are shot and the foam retains the shape of your ass an hour after your ass has left, I was overcome by something.
The previous hour I had magically gotten the snow blower to start. It helped knowing it has an electric starter. Plugging it in before I threw the switch did make quite a difference. But this snow blower has been around longer than some current pop stars have been alive. It belched smoke, dripped gas and emitted noxious odors that would out stink a school bus.
To plow, or 'blow', the snow I had to push this behemoth up and down the driveway as I held a lever down with my left hand. This was a fuck load of work. I had to stop every few minutes to shake my hand out and to better enjoy afore mentioned noxious fumes.
After forty minutes, I steered the beast back into the garage and headed inside.
Unwrapping myself of winter layers took a bit of time that gave my lungs a chance to acclimate to warm air. Warm not stinky air. I finally sat down in the old chair, huffing and puffing a bit. Then I noticed it.
The smell of gas, old motor oil and sweat. And it was coming from me.
I sat up in horror.
"I smell like a guy!"
There wasn't enough lavender body soap to wash away that terrible moment.