One reason to live in town is that the power rarely goes out. That, and that fact that my queer bohuncus doesn't have to fight it's way from point A to point B just because it's queer.
Well, the power is out, and it's barely 1:45 am now.
Now, how do I know this? Well, the AC unit in the bedroom was fussing about the lack of sufficient voltage. The other units were quiet. The computers were on battery. And the emergency generator on the roof was, and still is, running.
After all the weather today, the power goes out with hardly a breeze in the sky.
How am I supposed to sleep in all this quiet?
And is the moon out? Oh, no! It's all very dark.
So I stumble around and shut off the computers. They would do that automatically, but who am I to wait. I lit a candle. I curse the darkness. I pour a stiff Bloody Mary.
I sit here on the couch wondering why I need to be conscious for all this, and I crank up the blog app on the iPhone to whine about the moment.
Then at 1:56, the smoke alarum beeps, the fan on the big AC unit activates, the laser printer hums, and the light comes on in the bathroom.
I can go to the light without carrying the vanilla scented candle.
I'll wait a while before turning the computers back on. That would require getting up and out from under this afghan on what is a raw, cold, and otherwise unwelcoming night.
The question is can I reach the remote from here. Well, also is the cable on yet?
Yep! The History Channel is going on about Jack the Ripper. Lovely.
-- text tapped from a virtual keyboard. You found misspellings? Imagine that. Get over it.