I was going to write about my trip
to the vet where my dog freaked out had to be muzzled then broke a thermometer
off in his, err, you know, then had to be tranquilized to the point of
hilarity.
I was even going to write about the
last Wednesday, when as I was getting ready for bed I heard a knocking, a
gentle tapping at my front door.
Thinking my watchdog would bark if someone were there I just let it go
as the wind. Then I heard louder
tapping, insistent tapping. I got out of
bed, put on my slippers, but didn’t bother with my glasses. So I had to put my face right up against the
glass of the front door, and who is standing there? Deputy Fife of the Angola police department, 911-response
unit. Cops. At my door?
Crap.
I pointed
him around to the side door, the one that actually works, and there is his
friend with a flashlight the size of telephone pole shining into my eyes. You know even though I knew I hadn’t done
anything wrong I still felt guilty as hell, and I was scared. Barney and his buddy Andy let me know that
there had been a call from the old lady who lives here that a young prowler was
seen in her garage. Whelp, I explained I
don’t have an old lady living here, just me and my vicious attack dog, currently
smelling your crotch and humping your leg.
Now if I were them, I would have
asked for ID, looked a little in the house, as I invited them in, maybe looked
into my story a little before saying, oops I’m sorry must have the wrong
place. There is our police force working
hard to keep me safe. Turns out the old
lady who we bought the farm from seven years ago called in and either gave this
address in her senility, or this address was in the 911 computers under her
name. Either way, I think if I were a
cop I would have been a little more suspicious.
Not that I really wanted to go to jail or anything.
I was going to write about that,
but then my power went out, and stayed out for a very, very long time, and I
decided to write about how much that sucked instead. Except now I’ve already written about the
cops at my door, and so this is just going to get really long as I write about
both.
Monday night Presents:
My random notes while stuck in a cold house for three days
without power,
Apparently it was the biggest ice storm in Stupid County’s
history and at 7:00 a.m. Thursday morning, my power went out, flickered back
on, out, on again, then out cold. Did I
say cold?
Thursday night
Powerless in the middle of an ice storm, wind howling, tree
branches falling, thudding, knocking on the side of the house, scratching the
windows, the draft in the room swirling, making the candle light move, forcing
the shadows on the walls to dance. And
there I am freezing my butt off staring at a blank television in the dark
wondering if it’s time to go to bed yet.
I glance at my watch; it’s 7:38 p.m., it’s going to be a long night.
Isn’t it ironic that in a power outage the one room that you
don’t mind being freezing cold, the kitchen, for all of your food is slowly
melting and your butter is soon going to taste like sour cream, it’s also the
only room, if you have gas appliances that you can get warm, by lighting the
pilot light and turning on the oven. You
just can’t win. Wait, is that ironic, or
just unfortunate?
Most embarrassing, yet quick thinking, and resourceful thing
that I did: I actually stole water from
my dog’s dish so that I could make my pork chops. I can’t explain the dish but it’s not quite
as gross as it sounds.
Worst mistake I made.
Trying to invent a new salad.
Heard of the Chicken Caesar? How
about the Pork Chop Iceberg with ranch.
NO? Didn’t think so. The other white meat doesn’t go with the
other leaf lettuce and the other dressing.
Maybe if I added anchovies . . .
Early Friday morning, house as cold as Hilary Clinton I
suddenly remembered that I had a freezer full of ice. Now, what do you do? What do you do? The ice is melting all over the inside of your
freezer, yet at the same time, maintaining a much colder temperature because of
it. I got a bowl poured all of the ice
in it and stuck it back in the freezer.
And now I have frozen chicken potpies to thank me, and whatever chicken
lips are, I think they have been there since we moved in.
Good things about not having power:
Without power there is no water, so no dishes.
A lot of time to read
A lot of time to think
Affords you the chance to have an extremely romantic candle
lit dinner, in my case it was a pork and iceberg salad with ranch cooked in dog
water, alone. Not quite ideal.
A lot of time to write
A lot of time to light fifty candles and sacrifice the
neighbor’s sheep.
Who the hell am I kidding, it’s a perfect excuse to get
blitzed, you only think you’re warm, but knowing is only half the battle, and
after half the bottle, you don’t know anymore either.
I don’t know which is worse, seeing your breath in your own
house, or it being too dark in your house to see your breath.
It’s amazing how many times I turned on light switches out
of habit. It’s also a little funny that
I kept putting things back in the fridge when it eventually became colder
outside of it.
Best part about losing power. The feeling of happiness when you get it
back. Ahh, heat, now turn it down
dammit, you think that pays for itself?
Fact the beer companies don’t want you to know. All beer is cold filtered it’s just a way of
getting around having to pasteurize it.
Man of the Week:
Nisser, inventor of the trampoline.
Came up with the idea watching a bad circus. The high wire act kept falling into the
net. Got to love a man who takes a bad
and turns into my favorite drunken activity.
My biggest problem with NASCAR (There are so many): In the commercials they show a lot of
accidents, granted the only thing worth watching when it comes to NASCAR. What’s the problem? In order to get people to watch this pastime,
that has been deemed a sport by the same idiot that thinks A Field
of Dreams is the thrilling sequel to A Catcher in the Rye, they have
to show what goes wrong. Do they show a
foul ball in baseball to get you to watch it, or the ref throwing a flag in an
NFL game? No. This driving cars around in a circle is so
dumb that the only thing people watch it for is to see them screw up. “Wow man did you see Tiger Woods hit that
ball into the ocean? Wild.”
Thing I feel guilty about today: I overheard one of the teachers talking about
her grandfather, and how he was really sick and probably not going to make it
much longer. And while it was only a
momentary start, a mere blink of the brain, I still thought, if even for a
micro-second, should I go into the office and tell the principal that I’m free
to cover her classes if she has to be gone for a while. I’m like the back up quarterback, who doesn’t
really wish for the starter to get hurt, but really, when it comes right down
to it, well, he really does.
Quote of the week:
The problem with the future is that it keeps turning into the past.
- Bill
Waterson, Calvin and Hobbes
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