This one’s timely only because it’s beautiful outside and my grill is broken. I must fix this situation as soon as humanly possible so that I may begin once again filling the suburban air with the smell of smoke and meat.
A couple of years ago, we had a bird that kept building a nest in our grill. I’d clean it out and use it, and a few hours later it would be full of straw and sticks again. One would think that tearing open the bird’s home, ripping its contents out, and burning other birds in lemony-garlicy marinated effigy in what was once its living room would have been a sufficient warning that its presence was not wanted. But no, it continued building the nest until we finally bought a grill cover so that it had no way in.
This story really has nothing to do with this strip except that both include a grill.