The Power Goes Out in Margaritaville--Twice

In the torture chamber of beeps, I awoke (if you can call getting up after you've barely slept waking) to find the empty gelato container on my night stand. Yes, after the first onslaught of power outrage beeps, I confess that in my darkened but far from silent house, I mistook my need for peace and comfort for hunger on this first night in over a month with the man who loves me back at his own place.

Somehow in the dark freezer I found the container of pistachio on my first try. I'll have a spoonful while I set the battery lantern in my mom's bathroom, I thought. Another while I tuck an extra blanket around her.

And what is the point of the almost dead battery on the cordless phones continuing to beep? Wouldn't it conserve the battery if they just beeped once or twice? And the security system, doesn't its beep just make me feel more insecure? All of that thinking required more gelato until I sat with it my bed staring out at the dark water, knowing that any minute the Southern California Edison would text me a sincere apology. And that after that they would call expressing more remorse. They did, and I sat spooning the smooth green gelato into my mouth marveling at how light it still was from the car headlights passing by, and from the battery security lights in the offices across the water.

I dozed and then woke to the powering up chirps and beeps, the clack and sigh of my mother's oxygen machine. I dozed again until SCE let me know the power was back on--and they were sorry for the inconvenience (and would that be sorrow over the darkness and the beeping or sorrow over waking me with the texting and the phone call?)

And then it happened all over again, and I surrendered to the wind and the rain. I surrendered to the dark and the sound of my mother talking in her sleep. I surrendered to  myself alone in my bed, thinking back to the immediate aftermath of my divorce. Awake for days, and sleep still ruined months later when I finally moved out of the house and into my own place. I could not sleep in the silent emptiness. Sloshing with red wine, I'd load up the CD player and turn up the volume while my dogs waited for the completion of this ritual at the foot of the stairs, the climb feeling like forever, the grief feeling like forever.

And now this life on the water with my mother. With my heart full even when my bed is half-empty. Two more storms are coming, they say. Come wind. Come rain. Drench us out of this drought. I have vanilla ice cream and sea salt caramel gelato in the freezer.

this morning the water in the marina was so high it obscured the sign with the name of the street

Watt the $%*#?

The power went out last night just a few minutes after I slipped into a pretty blissful sleep. The beeping of the alarm on my mom's oxygen machine confused me; I thought it was my phone telling me I had a text message, but it was so dark in my room, I couldn't find my glasses to see the screen on my phone. By the time I figured out what was going on, my son was already knocking at my bedroom door. He'd already checked on my mom who said she was okay, and then he and his wife and I  went through the house setting my battery laterns into strategic spots. I didn't really care why the power had gone on the fritz.

Maybe ten minutes later I awoke to a light shining in my eyes. The lamp I'd turned on in my confusion to see my phone was lighting up my bedroom. Okay, I thought, good. My mom will probably sleep better with her oxygen. Back to sleep. Until the phone rang. It was Southern California Edison telling me there'd been a power outtage in my area. Oh thanks, but a little late, I thought. Back to sleep. For a minute. Then  I received a text from SCE letting me know about the unscheduled power outtage. I was a little riled up by this time, but with a little deep breathing, I could feel myself drifting into the bliss again. Ring. Now it's SCE letting me know that the power should be back on soon. (It's already on, remember?) Darn. I grumble my way back to slumber. Buzzzzz. Now SCE is texting me, letting me now the power will be back on soon. 

I took a long nap today. The next time the power goes out, I will uplug my land line and turn off my cell phone. What sort of power-drunk maniacs are making the decisions at SCE?

Wild Night

I recall power outages as stealthy things. Suddenly you woke aware that it was lighter outside that it should be. The face of your plug-in alarm clock frozen. Your heart sinking with the knowledge that you were already late for work.

Nowadays, the power-less silence has found its voice. When the power went out here last night around 4:00 a.m., the noise woke me. Beep from the security system. Chirp from the carbon monoxide detector. Beeebeeep from my mother's oxygen machine (don't worry, she only uses it at night and can survive quite well without it.) Thankfully the security system only beeped once. Not like the overly courteous system at my old house. But the noise was good. It woke me, and I took a battery-powered lantern downstairs to my mom's bathroom. She was already awake. "Now you can see if you need to get up," I told her."
"What time is it?" she asked.
"Four,"I said.
"What?" she said. I grabbed the lantern and held up four fingers. "What time is it?" she asked again.
"One, two, three, four," I said again.
"Okay," she said. "Four-O-One."
"Right," I said. Although it was probably 4:05 by then.

I couldn't sleep. So I read some more of "Wild" by Cheryl Strayed and tried not to freak out as my mom yelled and talked in her sleep. Eventually,I drifted off and woke to the clatter of my printer re-booting itself around 5:00. My feet were killing me when I woke. I guess I was hiking with Cheryl in the ten minutes or so that I slept. Luckily the pain was just part of the dream, and my feet were fine as I went back downstairs to check on my mom. She was sitting on the side of her bed, already resetting her clock. Maybe she'd been hiking with us, too--shouting at bears, or foxes, or trying to scare Sasquatch away.

photo credit: todrinkthewildair.com

Blackout

Just as I settled in bed to read the other night, the power went out. Total darkness in a city is an eerie thing. Total darkness when you are home alone is even eerier. I might have been able to roll with it-- to rejoice that my noisy neighbor couldn't be in his garage sawing, or grinding, or disposing of  bodies with a myriad of power tools or whatever the hell he's doing over there, but that's when the beeping starting. First my cordless phones, then the security system. Little warning beeps at first, then more insistent until the security system was full-out blaring. I had to call them up to find out how to stop it. "Enter my code," they said. Of course. I might have thought of that if the noise hadn't disabled my brain. "It's a courtesy noise," the woman at the alarm company said, "to let you know the power is out." I didn't argue with her, didn't say that there was nothing at all courteous about that noise. Didn't tell her that if I'd already been asleep when the alarm started blaring that I probably would have had a heart attack or jumped out of window right into the arms of Mr. Mayhem and his saws.


I had 27% of my battery left on my iPad when the darkness descended so I went to Edison's website to see what had happened. Then I browsed around a little bit. Here's what I found on the "Safety Checklist During an Outage" under the subheading of "food safety tips:"  When you go to bed, leave a bedroom light switched on. It will wake you when power returns, so you can check the condition of your food. Check on my food?? In the middle of the night?? 


It turned out that I did accidentally leave my bedside lamp on, and when the power was restored a couple of hours later, the light jolted me awake. I didn't go check on my food. I just swore a lot, switched off the lamp, and turned on my fan so I wouldn't be able to hear my neighbor in case he left his lamp on and it woke him up, and he decided to dispose of one more body before dawn.


photo credit: jack-the-ripper.com