An absolute bummer of a day

 

I awoke this morning to a stunninglyquiet cottage. It took me a moment to realize there was no hum of the refrigerator,no white sound from the HVAC unit. None of the appliances had their little lightslit to show they were functioning. I looked across the yard at Jordan’s houseand saw there were no lights. Then I found she had texted me that an accidentat the stoplight, a block and a half away, had taken out an electric pole. Itwould be fixed by nine-thirty, according to the power company.

There is not much I can do inthe cottage without power—no cup of tea, because I have nothing to heat thewater; no hot water (good thing I didn’t want to wash my hair); even the bidetwouldn’t work. I had thought my computer would work on battery, but no suchluck. No TV. No reading, because I read on my computer. Oh sure, I could dosome of that on my phone, but it’s tiny and both my old fingers and old eyesare not happy working on it.

Besides, last night, havinghad I guess all the sleep I needed, I was awake and at my computer at midnight,making a list of things to do today, like cancelling tomorrow’s dental appointment,making sure the Book Ladies knew I’d cancelled the group happy hour tomorrow (Istill am afraid one will show up, appetizer in hand). I wanted to check if thechurch would have charitable turkey dinners, and I needed to check on aneighbor. Little stuff, and the world wouldn’t end if I didn’t get it down, buta lot of it was locked in my computer.

Nine-thirty came and went,then ten-thirty. At eleven groceries were delivered, and I ate a banana. An emailtold me the power company now said three to four hours. I went back to bed, butI was restless, my body achy from having spent too much time in bed. The power cameon about three, and I worked like a demon until seven-thirty. With all emailsread and dealt with, my to-do list considerably shortened with only one of twothings postponed until tomorrow, I took a nap. Woke feeling so cozy andcomfortable, I debated getting up. But I did.

Now, at nine-thirty I’m aboutto go back to bed. I think my Covid is better, but neither Jordan nor I areready to charge out into the world. Tomorrow is the last day of quarantine. I’mcounting on a better day.

I have a message foranti-vaxxers (of course, none will read my blog): get up to date on vaccines.At my age, Covid could have turned into something severe. As it is, it was likean annoying, bad head cold, with a persistent cough (now mostly gone). I feelvery lucky but also grateful that I had good medical advice and kept up myvaccinations. Of course I’m not completely out of the woods yet, so maybe I’mtoo smug.

A sign I’m feeling muchbetter: I ate the leftover tuna salad tonight, and I am again enjoying lookingat recipes. So guess what I found tonight? A recipe for an appetizer, of a Spamcubes (yes, you heard me), Gruyere, coarse mustard, and a cornichon. It wouldeither be interesting or appalling. I am amused at the combination of what you mightcall a low-class food—Spam—with a gourmet cheese like Gruyere. I also found a recipefor updated stuffed celery. I remember that from my childhood.

And a Facebook me that hithome, because I thought I was having such a bad day: “If you think you’rehaving a bad day, remember that the Salzburg airport has an entire counter forfolks who flew to Austria thinking they were flying to Australia.”

‘Night folks. Sweet dreams.