I'm writing this blog because I can. Right here at my desk, in my living room with my own personal, sweet, surging electricity.
God bless National Grid.
I hit the wall at noon today, surrendering to the cold/flu thing by tossing my lunch. Faced with the choice of staying at the warm office unable to function with the possibility of infecting co-workers and going home to the dank crypt -- let's just say my first inclination was not to do the right thing.
But I stopped at the grocery store on the way home as was oddly buoyed by being able to score: another 20 C batteries for the fizzy, fuzzy TV; Danish ginger cookies; and a bottle of Nyquil.
Charlie was almost giddy when I walked in the door. He'd been talking to a power crew from Massachuesetts working in the neighborhood and they said our turn was tonight. They also said a big part of the problem was antiquated infrastructure and that the houses in this neighborhood being built before electricity was a real hassle, but all Charlie really heard was "tonight."
I layered up and hit the couch, awaking a few hours later to a cold, dark living room.
Charlie was no longer smiling. There were no utility trucks in the neighborhood.
We weighed the various options and invitations. Our buddy Jim-the-photographer had offered his generator the night before, we declined because neither of us is mechanical and we feared we'd break it. (OK, that's what we told each other, but we secretly believed the power would be on any minute but didn't want to say it). Toni and Johnathon had offered their guest room. Cheryl suggested pizza and the ball game out in Akron.
I didn't feel up to any of it, but Charlie needed to get out. We called a favortie Italian joint up the street and discovered they had power -- and discussed matters over the pasta special. I couldn't taste it, didn't want it - but they had heat and light so I played with it.
We talked half-hearted contigencies and I volunteered to move to the city of his choice. Since I had picked this one, I figured it was the least I could do.
No, he said, it will all be better when the situation turns.
We overtipped the waitress, who said she didnt' have power at home either, and headed back to the house in silence- noting the stoplight at the corner of our street was still out from a distance and saying nothing.
Charlie lit the candles, I found the baseball game on the little TV with the fresh batteries piled up next to it for the inevitable fade. We settled into the positions assigned by the last four nights - Charlie at one end of the sofa watching the mini screen, me at the other beading by lantern , and Lily the Lab stretched between us gathering body heat from each end.
When the lights popped on a few minutes later there was an extended pause. Neither of us said anything for fear it would go away. But Lily was ecstatic, bouncing off of everything. I know she doesn't understand electricty, but she decided to be elated for all three of us.
Charlie got up and started plugging things in, both of us quietly startled as they each came online. The heat seems so hot, the lights so fiery.
The cable is up, he's watching the game on the big screen - no batteries involved. I'm going upstairs to strip down to one layer of pajamas and sleep it off.
There is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Copyright 2006 Judi Griggs