June 12th, 2005


(no subject)

So it's hours after the electrician left, and I just convinced Bort to come out from under the couch. By "electrician" I mean the dude wielding a backpack and a skateboard who came to examine the circuitbreaker, as about half the house went dark earlier this evening. It's been a while since a stranger actually frightened the cats.

I've never managed to knock my bed over while being used as intended, but about 45 seconds after the electrician went upstairs I hear a thump and the reply to my areyouok? came back, "Yeah, I didn't realize your bed was set up like that. I'll fix it!" I'll assume I don't have to go into the details of how much walking in to see the foot-end of my bed knocked off its stilts served as a confidence builder. Somewhere in there he got wrapped up in the miniblinds. Twice.

Back to the basement he goes, and after establishing that it's a problem in the city part of the line, he offers a number of jerry-rigs. What do I miss most? Maybe he can switch out this for that? The fridge is all that really matters, I tell him, but for some reason he keeps trying to get the ac back.. not that I would have minded cool air again, but I was more worried about the tenuous nature of what was being done than any eagerness for individual appliances/functions. I didn't even care so much if the food in the fridge went bad, I just wanted my fucking soda cold. We worked it out and I meandered back upstairs.. just cresting the top in time for the entire house to go pitch black to the tune of "..shit!" downstairs. Creeping Doom didn't even have time to settle over me though before the house lights up again, the whole house this time, the kitchen and the air and everything. He sounded more shocked than I was. Definitely more shocked than I was.

From that point forward I was painfully paranoid at every jamming of a wire back into place (and they were most certainly jammed, even the closing of the breaker box was somehow a banging, shovey affair), I winced each time but the electricity held on. He wrote me out a note of what to tell PECO when I call, a perfect, tornpage notebook note. He read it back to me in stages, "On line side.. that's 'on (pause) line side'..", and yes his finger even followed the arrow then connected the stars, in that way people do when they're not just showing you how they wrote, but remembering how to follow it themselves. That way where they run some of it together because they kinda forgot. Soon after he and his skateboard awayed into the night. I found Bort under the sofa, pressed tightly against the back wall. Pssting and Booooooorty and even moist food wouldn't budge him. (But now he's dancing on my desk.)
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