So I put on my electrical shorts and went to get the paper

There are several ways to be awakened, none of them especially pleasant, unless you hear "Publisher's Clearing House is at the door!" (alternately, "Carrie Underwood is at the door!" would be suitable too.)

Normally, Peggy and I arise to the gentle strains of some crackpot overnight radio show, the theory being that tender, vivid music would lull us back into the arms of Morpheus.

Yesterday, there were different plans; with doctor's appointments coming up next week, we were going to skip breakfast so we could leave blood samples on our way to work.

It all went to Holland in a handbasket when Peggy awoke me with words no sane person likes to hear: "The power is off." Turns out she had gotten up when she heard a boom, the lights went off, and then back off, and then on briefly, and then boom. Gone.

It's axiomatic that electricity is one of those things that you just take for granted, like water, cable, sewage, and FOX45 News at 5:30 (**cough** NASCAR race Monday pre-empted the news *cough). You just know it'll always be there, and that means when it isn't, it's sorely missed. Generous soul that she always is, Peggy shortened her shower by about 90% of her usual time, so there could be some hot water left in which I could splash about. The fun part was shaving by flashlight with a razor. Listening to the news on a little transistor radio was also a highlight, as was wondering why every time I entered a room or closet, I still hit the light switch. d'OH!


Today's karma minute: on Monday I spent the greater part of the day straightening and organizing my closet/dressing area, which is why I could enter the area and place my hands directly on my mini Maglite in the stygian darkness. If not for all that cleanin' and organizin', the flashlight may never have been found.

Somehow, I knew.