Illumination
Friday, July 16, 2004Last night, I was closing in on the final chapters of Thinner Than Thou, everything and everyone was coming together, and I was determined to finish it, even though it was already after midnight...
Then the power went out. Tried to come back on as I fumbled fingered under my desk in search of the surge protector. Stayed off. Everything was pitch black as I slipped the flyleaf into the book and closed it and carefully sat it down. Luckily I'd kicked over and cursed at my flash light the day before, so I knew roughly where it was.
I hear a song in my head, one that, ever since I was thirteen, I'd sing when I couldn't see.
By day give thanks, by night beware
Half the world in sweetness, the other in fear
When the darkness takes you, with her hand across your face
Don't give in too quickly, find the things she's erased
Find the line, find the shape through the grain
Find the outline and things will tell you their name
"Night Vision" by Suzanne Vega filled my head, and I followed the instructions and clicked on the flashlight.
went down stairs. Brushed my teeth and washed my face using water from the jug in the bathroom, giving them time to get the lights back on. Then I walked over to the desk to retrieve the last bill and called the power company. I filled him in on the situation.
"Ok," I say, getting to the story point aka why I'm telling you this part, "So I can trundle off to bed now, right?"
"I don't know," the dispatcher says. "You're the only call, and if they can't figure out what's wrong, they'll be banging on your door."
"Oh. OK." I say, which, in my head, sounded more like, "Oh. Bugger."
Seriously. I think he was just jealous that I was flaunting me "I can go to bed and get some sleep"-ness at him. But it had it's intended effect. I got out clothes and laid them aside to jump into should someone come banging on my door, and crawled into bed.
And I couldn't sleep. Because it wasn't *dark* enough. See, I have my VCR, my alarm clock, both with glowing blue readouts, and it's amazing how much light they add to the room. Even with my blind half up (and only half, in case someone had to inspect the transformer on top of the pole outside my window...yeah, yeah, I'm paranoid, but why invite trouble?) the place was like laying in a tomb. Which should have been cool with me, but it wasn't.
"Some country girl *you* are." I mutter.
My eyes are tired, and I finally manage to get them shut, when I hear a bug tock tocking across my ceiling. Which I wouldn't hear because I'd usually have my fan on.
Then I realize. There's no refrigerator grinding in preparation for take off, no water pump, no ac or fans. Even the tree frogs are silent outside.
"It's quiet..." I think.
"Don't even..." I mutter.
"*Too* quiet."
I sigh.
I sleep.
AHHHHH
I wake up, as the electric truck, which I must have been listening for, creeps its way past. I manage to get my glasses half on and peer out the window. My window is actually level with my bed, and so I lay at the foot of my bed, with my head facing out, and I listen.
It's not nearly as quiet as I thought. I hear voices from someone way down the road. A dog barks. Something walks in the woods behind the house. A cow moos. Far away a train whistle blows, and the only thing that's missing is the pound rumble of the barge works. I wait for the electric men to return, and sometimes I think I hear their engine.
After a time I get bored and uncomfortable, and snuggle back the right way in my bed, and sleep.
AHHHH
The VCR comes on, clicking and whirling. The alarm clock flashes like a neon sign, and the fan goes scree, scree. I kick it lightly, to make it stop, and I knock it off the stool. I right it, and go down stairs to shut off the lamp.
Of course, now it's too bright and too noisy. But at least things are back to normal.
Permalink Cindy scribed this at 6:54 PM
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