...in your front yard. Hell, even in my own front yard. Back when I was repairing my Fuel Injector, I accidentally dropped a bolt that was on the front of the fuel rail. After searching through the grass for a half an hour, I just gave it up as a bad job, put everything back together and went on about my life.
So... a few weeks ago, I noticed the distinctive smell of gasoline emanating from under the hood. After a couple of minutes of investigating, I determined that the bolt I'd dropped previously, was the one that holds the Fuel Pressure Regulator onto the front of the fuel rail. After dome time and pressure, the Regulator had worked its way out of the housing, and wouldn't go back in for love nor money. In my feeble efforts to reinsert the regulator, I managed to bend its mounting bracket, but I figured that I'd be able to make it work.
After ordering the replacement bolt from GM (Of course it was part of a bolt Assembly, and therefore cost me eight times what the bolt by itself costs) I attempted to get the old regulator to go back in its hole. Nothing doing. $75 later, I've got the new Regulator installed and I'm on the road again.
This past weekend, we drove out to Clinton, TN (a good half-hour up the road) to pick up a new (to us) sofa and Love-seat. When we got back into the driveway, my truck died, again. After looking into a few things, I figured out that my alternator had gone out, and left it for this weekend to correct. Well, this morning, my shop van decided that I really needed to fix my pickup tonight by dumping out all of it's transmission fluid on the ground. After getting a ride out to the job site today from my helper, he was kind enough to carry my butt back to the crib this evening.
I commenced to remove my alternator from the truck, and while doing so, I realized something. The alternator is right below the Fuel Pressure Regulator. I guess the charging system for all the vehicle's electrical systems doesn't like being doused in gasoline very much. I figure that's why the danged thing failed on me.
While pulling the old alternator, and replacing it with the new one, I dropped several bolts, but was completely non-plussed by the happenstance. You see, I now have a kick-ass Paved carport in which to do my auto-mechanical-type work. Instead of losing the bolts in the grass, I was able to just scoop them back up and continue working.
Yup, it's true. I frickin' Love this place.
It's seems that through no small effort of my own, the "Shadow Pooper" has moved on to greener pastures. By "no small effort" I mean No Effort Of Mine. I think the whole getting awakened by a 60 watt bug-light literally inches from your head making you shit-your-nest and fly off, dynamic, had something to do with it. A couple of times of that happening to you, and let me tell you, you'll find another place to crash.
Or it could have been...
When I took Jennifer around to the folks' houseboat, we had a big time hanging out and eating some good grub. At every opportunity, we would enjoy our repast on the upper level of the boat under the party-top. Unfortunately, my Mom has a couple of hummingbird feeders up there, and she got to see a few flit by and have a drink. (For the uninitiated: a hummingbird feeder is a glass container that's filled with a sugar solution that auto-feeds into some fake flowers that the birds drink from.) Jenny had to have one.
After procuring a proper bird feeding apparatus from the local Wally-world, she nagged at me until I finally hung the dang thing up. It is placed in a most opportune location, under the eave of the carport, whereby the little wretches can get to it, and we can also see it from the comfort of the air-conditioning. No sooner had the device been placed, I heard from her "But what about the Bears?". "What?" I proclaimed. Then she showed me this.
Now I'm uncertain if my "Manly Prowess" (or my complete inaction), or the threat of huge omnivores (Bears), was the ultimate reason for the expulsion of the aforementioned Wren.
Alas, my Barbecue remains inactive.
I've been living here in the new crib for a couple of weeks now, and things have settled down a bit. I finally met the landlord yesterday, and it was very cool that he dropped in unannounced, and I had no compunction in letting him in to survey what we've done with the place. In my old place, none of us had enough room for our things, so the word of the day (all day, any day) was clutter. Now, we've got enough room to get organized, and thus keep things clean. Much nicer.
Anyway's, there's still a few things left to do... install a few light fixtures, replace a couple of ceiling fans, Update the fuse panel to a breaker box, and other stuff along those lines. One of my major projects has been to get light bulbs into all the fixtures in and around the homestead. Several of these are outside, and a few are out in my awesome carport. I replaced a couple of spotlights that are attached to a motion sensor at the front of the 'port, and put a bug-light in the older fixture towards the rear of the house.
Now that we've established a routine, when I get up in the morning... I head for a cup of Joe, and Jenny let's the dog's out to go potty. In order to perform my duties, all I gotta do is pour some sugar into a cup, then coffee, then enjoy... Jenny has to open the door from the family-room onto the carport, then open the gate to the back yard so the puppies can enter. Now that I've fixed the lights, she (appropriately) turns them on before exiting the building, thereby creating the mystery that I titled this post after.
Two mornings ago... Jennifer opened the door and turned on the light, and was under attack! There was an immense flutter from the rear fixture, a certain amount of feces was emanated, and the offender disappeared. Was it a bat? We don't know, but that was the popular theory. From her description of the event to me, we dubbed this creature the "Shadow Pooper".
This morning, when she let out the dogs, the "Shadow Pooper" struck again. It's emanation's were falling "Danger-Close" to the seat of my riding mower so I decided (yeah, she nagged me into it) to investigate the home of my nefarious malcontent.
While peering into the busted up glass of the squarish light fixture on the back of my carport, with my trusty mini-Mag-Light, I discovered that the culprit was a small wren.
I'm not certain what our course of action is from this point, but I can certainly state that the inclusion of this bird is not a part of the equation.
I'll let you know how it turns out.