We’ve lost our power three times in the last day or so; once so the power company could replace the pole that has the drop to our house on it, twice because it snowed eight inches last night and made the utility world go flibbertygibbet for a spell.
I had to sit shiver all night over the stove. When the power goes out, the fan doesn’t run and it overheats. It smells like a tire fire barbeque a bit when it gets too hot. You have to close all its dampers and watch it. I had to open a window at two AM to get some fresh air, and made a fire in the living room fireplace to exhaust the place, and get a little warmth. The former occupants of the house never took care of the fireplace, and actively broke it here and there, too, for practice, I guess. I had to watch the fireplace even harder than the woodstove, lest it pull a Miss Havisham on me and let a log roll out. The power was restored before dawn, and then shortly after winked out, and I had to go through the whole rigamarole again.
I fell asleep around eight this morning while sitting somewhat askew on the couch. My little son came downstairs and stood as quietly as an eight-year-old can stand, which is similar to how quietly an organ grinder with a rhino instead of a monkey might keep silent, and when I opened one eye, he said, ” Wow, dad, you’re finally awake.”
Yes, son. Finally.