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Typically that’s thought to be a dreadful beginning, but in this case it is apt.
It would be more apt to say that it was a stormy and dark night, because the storminess preceded the dark by some half-hour, a half-hour full of winds blustering and ice pinging.
Then there was a snap, then a half-hearted attempt to restart, then an eerily silent dark. My house suckles greedily upon the wrinkled teat of an antiquated substation. It is ripped from its meal every time it storms, every time it ices, every time an eyelash from a flea lands upon a line.
The neighbors enjoy a shiny-new substation; they taunt me with the glow from their teevees, porch lights and holiday decorations. I watch from the shadows with murderous envy.
First there comes a moment of denial, when my head cannot accept that the power is gone. That night I cast about for things to do other than lie on the couch and suffer, because as the wind blew and the power died I was in the full feverish throes of the flu.
Then came the difficult part. I can handle pain with the best of them, I think…as long as I know how long it will last. And that’s always the problem, isn’t it? You never can be assured how long any pain will last.
I worried, lying on the couch that night, because I know the difficulties my town has had in shoring things up after an outage. It must by now all be held together by baling wire and Band-Aids; there have been times when my neighbors enjoyed double-digit hours of heating, cooking and Mixmastering while I languished in the dark.
I wished as I suffered for someone to fold a warm washcloth across my forehead. That sounded like the most heavenly thing in the world. So did Tylenol, and a large glass of icy water. I wanted him to bring me a heavier blanket, to pull up a chair beside the couch, to offer to find care for my children the next day.
He would have gone on a hunt for a flashlight (and batteries, because I can’t keep living batteries in flashlights to save my soul). He would have hauled the trash to the curb. He would have rubbed my sore shoulders, kissed my hot neck and told me that it all would pass in a matter of hours.
He didn’t appear except in my wishes, so I did those things myself. Except for the washcloth, which seemed unnecessarily self-indulgent. And the neck-kissing, which seemed creepy.
The storm did pass, of course. The power blipped back on just as the Tylenol took effect. I got the trash to the curb without the world coming to an end. I vowed to buy enough “D” batteries to fill every flashlight in the house. I put myself to bed and hoped that everything would be back to normal by the light of day.
It was.
And this is how I know I’m nowhere ready for a “serious” relationship. I want a partner in my house when I am in need, but not when I am strong. That’s no way to start a relationship. I’ll know I’m ready for something more serious when I want him there all the time…and not just when the power goes out.
Omnipotent Poobah
badinfluencegirl
D on December 4th, 2007 
Lolita
aag
Jennifer on December 4th, 2007 
løvechocolate
Claire on December 4th, 2007 
badlittlegoodgirl
Ruth on December 4th, 2007 
Sailor
nitebyrd on December 4th, 2007 
Finn
rosetta
fubarific on December 9th, 2007 
