It is a cold, cold day today. Unusually cold. By unusually cold, I mean icicles hanging from the bottom of vehicles, from the edges of homes and interfering with the power lines cold. Over the past 24 hours we have had temporary power outages. In April through October power outages would not be an issue.
On this December day, it is a big deal. At least it is for this writer girl whose morning routine is to enjoy a cup of coffee and write for a couple hours. No electricity means no coffee. This is a big disruption to the routine. The I will walk around in a state of confusion for the next 24 hours, so please don’t ask me to make any life altering decisions level of big.
At 4 a.m. we had been without power for half an hour. A year ago the setting of this story would have been the polar opposite also known as Sunny, Arizona. In Arizona people take to the streets and see if their neighbors have power. My nearest neighbor is close to a mile away and it is 19 degrees out. The bathrobe and slippers aren’t going to make the walk. So this is an event that will be endured solo. Unless I can think loud enough to make my husband wake up.
The first thought that came to mind was I am glad I brought the french press. At least I’ll be able to have coffee. Then the gravity of the move slowly crept into my mind. The same way the cold touches your fingers through your not thick enough, $30, they looked good at the time. Isotoner gloves. You can feel it start and then BAM it is painfully cold. Reality can be like that at times. You have an electric stove. The gas stove is at your old home in Sunny, Arizona. You have no way to heat the water. And then the noble yet unsuccessful effort to create a solution ensued. Tea? Need the Stove. Keurig? Need electricity. And then the melodramatic thoughts enter the picture. Dang I’m hungry too. Why did I leave the bread in the freezer?
It didn’t get too far because the power returned at 4:30 a.m. Which is just as well because when given the opportunity my imagination has the potential to create incredible crises.
The last time I lived an hour that long was when I was six and I had to wait for my parents to tell them Santa had brought the presents. Except this time wasn’t as fun because the Christmas lights need electricity too.
Categories: Blogroll, Small Town Living
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