Powerless in Seattle (Another post from the library)
I may not mouth the word "wussie" (or anything that rhymes with it) at the neighbor, simply because he has begun using a generator when I know he has a wood fireplace and has no trouble heating his house, the big baby.
Generator envy is not pretty.
While it may be somewhat understandable, it weirds people out when I feed fallen pine branches into the bonfire while shouting "burn, baby, burn!", giggling maniacally, and singing snippets of "Oh, Christmas Tree."
I may not offer sexual favors to the power crew in exchange for agreeing to have the power back on in time for "Project Runway."
That said, if I see the crew taking a break as I drive by, I may not shout things out the window such as "Why are you resting? I'm not tired--why are you tired? Don't we PAY you for this?!" And so on.
While it may be annoying for the neighbor down the street to come watch me pick up nine thousand tons of pine branches, asking inane questions the whole time("So, putting those in the burn pile?"), Mr. K feels it is not conducive to neighborhood harmony to give answers that are dripping sarcasm or include the word "duh". ("Gee, no--it's just that they look so nice scattered across the front yard, I thought I'd scatter some across the back yard as well!")
The word "dumbass" has no place in any conversation with any of my neighbors.
It is fine that at this point the last thing I want in my living room is a damned pine tree, holiday or no, but it is neither necessary nor acceptable to refer to them as "satan's minions" and to ask people who DO choose to have a Christmas tree if they will be needing an exorcism.
People who did not lose power, or who already have their power back, do not suck and it is wrong for me to tell them that they do.
When asked if the tree falling on my car did any damage to it, it is somewhat impolitic to reply "Well, it was a 20 foot piece of tree that fell over 90 feet. What do you think, genius?"
When awakening before sunrise and feeling restless, I may not whistle Broadway show tunes to amuse myself while waiting for Mr. K to wake up.
When getting up early to feed the outdoor cats and then returning to bed, questions from Mr. K about the weather must be answered without the assistance of cold, wet feet on his back.
Immediately after spilling his beer on the carpet and then discovering the sausages on the grill flaming into charcoal is not the time to ask again what we'll do if the batteries run out.
No time is a good time to ask again what we'll do if the batteries run out.
Everyone knows that there are 14 hours of darkness per day in the Pacific Northwest this time of year, and nothing is gained by my telling everyone about it over and over again.
While it is true that people in a crisis situation often crave comfort foods, that is no excuse to subsist entirely on a diet of chocolate donut holes and gummi worms.
Saying that I'm on a nutrition strike in protest of slow power crews is not fooling anyone.
The head of Puget Sound Electricity is not a heartless bastard, and it is probably not in our best interests for me to publicly say otherwise.
"The yarn store is warm and has lights" is not an acceptable excuse for purchasing $100 worth of yarn.
No matter how bored I get sitting in a dark house, I may not do any of the following:
Moon the neighbor
Teach the neighborhood children to play poker
Put tape on the cats
Build a monument in the back yard to Ben Franklin for discovering electricity
Harass the head of Puget Sound Electric by calling him repeatedly to ask exactly what number is meant by "several" (or if he knows who his father is).
Once again time is running out on me. Hopefully I will have power soon and will be back to writing every day. You have absolutely no idea how much I miss writing to and hearing from all of you. No wonder I want to harass the power company.