Something good came out of the four-hour power outage I endured this morning. I finally finished the book Iíve been reading for the last month. What else could I do, with no electricity? The computer wasnít working, and the fax wasnít working, and the TV wasnít working. I couldnít even take a shower, because the well pump wasnít working. And I definitely wasnít working.
So I sat and read while I waited for the power to come back on. The utility company promised it would be restored between noon and 2:00 pm, but at 11:25 am I heard first the refrigerator and then the fax stirring back to life. I swear, it wasnít even back on for a full minute when I got a junk fax from some outfit wanting me to play poker. Yeah, because Iím so lucky.
And after the power came back, I took my morning shower and brewed my morning coffee, and then sat back down and finished the book. I only had a few pages left. (Well, more than a few, because it took me until mid afternoon.) Wednesday is a light day for work anyway, usually. I save it for things I donít get to on the other days, and I give myself permission to take things a little more slowly. Today I really indulged my indolence.
When I got power and turned on the computer, I got a news flash about a plane crashing into the high rise in Manhattan, so I turned on the news channel and watched for a while, until they started repeating misinformation. It was only later that I learned that the pilot had been Corey Lidle, a Yankee pitcher who had thrown his last pitch in his teamís loss Saturday to the Tigers. It was a little surreal, and quite sad.