Seems like whenever I sit down to write a post these days I'm interrupted by the all-too-familiar sound of glass shattering in the kitchen (that was ten minutes ago) or, in the case of yesterday, the power going out. Half the house had electricity (the unuseful half, like the upstairs bathrooms); the computer sat black and the phone was out of commission. When Darwin came home, armed with a voltage meter, he discovered that the problem lay not in the circuit breaker area, but in the wires running into the house.
As the electric company sleuthed around, we made pizza by the light under the microwave and ate by candlelight. Then we adjourned to the master bedroom to be dazzled by the brilliance of the remaining electric lights. We were all sitting in the bed reading when we were startled by a sound as of gunshots. Looking out the window, we watched as high up on the utility pole, the transformer exploded in a patriotic display. The curtain descended, the act was over; we sat in the dark.
Power was restored in the middle of the night, but I wasn't about to drag myself out of bed to blog about it, especially I was musing comfortably on how much better I felt than at this time last year. Which leads us to today, which is the Baby's first birthday.
Yes, yes, we're one today. Birthday girl can celebrate by eating all the fish she wants tonight at the fish fry. The party only gets zanier tonight as we're scheduled to turn the house upside down looking for my wedding ring, which is lost again. We need to find it before tomorrow, or else Julie D. will begin to doubt the appellation of MrsDarwin when we visit her Saturday night after the Irish Fest.
A Motte and Bailey Ambiguity
48 minutes ago