Another 'Act of God'

Electricity is a good and handy thing.
Not that I am a weenie or anything – I am a fully-functional human being in the backcountry without it – but when I’m around the homestead, it is nice.

It was a dark and stormy night. Suddenly a crash! The neighborhood plunged into darkness.

It was somewhere around 11:30 p.m. I thought it was a lightening strike – the storm had been moving through since 8 p.m. – that temporarily interrupted service. I shifted to a more comfortable position and tried to go back to sleep.
When the waggle of flashlight beams began to dance across the ceiling.
“Call 911,” my neighbor said as I threw open the window.
Four houses down, an oak tree came down, and took with it four power poles. Lines were down all over the street; the power pole next to my driveway was shattered and splintered.
“We’re not going to have power for quite some time,” my neighbor said.
OK by me. I went back to bed.
Or tried. The city utility began work at about 1 a.m. With chainsaws, sodium-vapor lights, bucket trucks and diesel generators.
I did managed to nod off for about 40 minutes - until the doorbell rang. I checked my watch. It was 2:58 A.M.
“City utility,” the guy at the door said. “Were you aware that your power was out?”
(Why, no, gosh and golly – I thought five bucket trucks and the generators were part of a parade!)
“Yeah. So what’s up?”
“Well, you’re going to have to call an electrician before we can hook you back up. When the pole went down, it took out your weatherhead and your T-bar.”
The weatherhead is that metal pole thingy where the power lines come into your house; mine was twisted and bent down to a 30-degree angle.
“How much is that going to run me?”
“Dunno. But we can’t do anything until you get it looked at.
“Act of God, you know?”
Fuck.
Me.
The one electrician I know, who would have come over for free, was on his way south to an electrical convention; the soonest the guy he recommended could get here is “between noon and 2 p.m.”
It’s not like I can get out of the house to get anywhere anyway. There’s a bucket truck parked across my driveway, anchored into the asphalt.
“We’re going to be here awhile,” the guy in the bucket said.
I have my iPod, my mobile and a cup of French press coffee – have camp stove, will brew – and scant little else to do but wait for the Calvary to come.
Dingle with my weatherhead.

1 comments:

Jason said...

Holy shit man. Just what you needed today... eh?