Lazzy & the Green-Eyed Monster

OK, so maybe you DON'T believe in monsters....well I'm not talking about that kind anyway.
I'm talking about the Green-Eyed monster....old Jealousy herself.
I got up early, since it was supposed to rain today (it did) and took B.Rex out for a jaunt, with the intention of doing a little wrenching on him today, part of which included an oil change and primary fluid change. I wanted the motor to be good and warm.
It was.
Nevermind the fact that I got rained on....a little. It was a small cell, and the wind after we passed through it dried things nicely. By the time we arrived home, both Rex and I were dry.
First things first; the Seca has been lounging about up on the lift like a fat man in a La-Z-Boy with a bag of chips and a football game on for a couple weeks waiting for me to order carb parts, which I haven't. No time for slackers; I dropped the lift and rolled Lazzy and Rex out, then unceremoniously booted the Seca off the lift, the way a bouncer might heave a drunk out the door at 4 AM. In came Rex, up went the lift, and I pulled Lazzy & the half-naked Seca in and closed the door, as it was starting to rain again.
I popped the drain plug and filter off of Rex and let the hot oil drain. It was about the time I was installing the new spin-on filter that I began to feel like someone was watching me.
Sure enough......Lazzy was giving me the bitch-eye, like a creole priestess casting an evil spell on me.
I stared him down...."Just what the Sam Hill is your freakin' problem?" I growled.
No answer. Of course, most bikes usually don't. Out loud, anyway.
He continued to glare at me silently with his square Cyclops eye.
"Oh, I get it. Jealous of all the attention? Hey, you had your turn on the lift....almost two months, if I remember correctly, buddy. Plus, just a couple weeks ago, when you accidently snapped a throttle cable, remember?"
I began to wonder if it HAD been an accident.....
By now, I had proceeded to finish putting the third quart into my 2 and 1/2 quart oil tank, and as I realized what I was doing, amid frantically placed pans and rags and the air thick with curse words that would make a sailor blush, I thought I heard a snicker.....
Oil was running down onto the lift, onto the floor, and I was stepping in it. I was making a hell of a mess.
I managed to get the extra half a quart mopped up, wasting half a roll of paper towels in the process, and siphoned off the remaining overfill. If I've changed oil on this thing once, I've changed it two dozen times, and I've never done that before.
I glared back at Lazzy...."Effing cheeseball. You made me do this."
Hissss.....like a cat. An angry cat, that some snot-nosed, bratty kid locked in a closet.
"OK, look....you get the next slot, OK? A little clean and lube, maybe some wax? Cut me some slack here...."
Purrrrrrr, purrrrrrr........
Motorcycles.....can't live with 'em, can't live without.....oh, never mind.

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