What a bloody weekend.
Woke up Saturday with a novelty headache courtesy of one too many glasses of le vino from a GNO on Friday. We were laughing and hooting over my vacation piccies and getting-ready-for-school anecdotes for so long, that I didn't
pour fall into bed until 2 am.
After lollygagging around on various couches/davenports all day, I finally started to feel normal-ish. (Eating some eggs made me feel much, MUCH betta.) I finished The Marrying Game which is one of the most fab books I've read in a long time. The characters were so delicious that I ate up every chapter.
So when my backyard erupted into a fiery blaze late that night, I was totally gobsmacked and unprepared.
As it was I was getting the daughter into her Scooby (tm) jammies when I heard the A/C moan and felt several loud pops. ACK! Not my beloved air conditioner! How will I survive without a cool 70 F and moderate humidity? As I was on my knees begging God to give me back my A/C, I heard my husband and middle child thunder upstairs.
"Get out of the house!" the husband barked. "Something is happening with the power."
Another load zap and fireworks erupted from outside the litchen window.
"Ayiiiiiiiiiii!" We all screamed as the power went out.
We raced out the front door into the pouring rain and I got the kids into the Yukon (American for Big-Ass Automobile) I then ran back into the house (DOH!) and found the husband calling the Hydro Company (Electric Co. for my American compadres.) I saw a bright two-foot flame blazing from our power line pole in the backyard and screamed to my husband to call 911 instead.
"It's on FIRE for shitssakes!"
We both got the hell outside (tripping over cats who were trying to escape the rain and actually come IN to the death pit) and called the Gorgeous Hot Men in Uniform as we backed our car out of the driveway and drove next door to wait.
Four minutes later the fire truck screamed onto our street and jumped out to save the night. They talked to the husband and after finding out it involved a power line told us they wouldn't be rushing in to put out the burning pole.
"It's like dangerous," said Hunky Man #1 named Bill.
"We'll like wait for the Hydro guys to get here, duuuuude." said Hunkier Fireman #2 named Tom. (Are fireman ever named anything but Bill or Tom?)
**This is being written and minimized under severe psychological duress as the middle boy is reading over my shoulder smacking his lips and saying, "Mum, what does hunky mean?"**
Meanwhile...back in my backyard: (insert zany Batman-esque noises here)
As the firemen lounge around in my backyard toasting marshmallows and drinking my leftover wine, the Hydro Men (Bless you, you ugly big lunkheads!) toddle up and survey the sitch.
One of them scoots up the pole and cuts the blazing line. He then waves it around in the air and the fire goes out. Huh? Who knew that fire-fighting was so easy? I could done that 40 minutes ago without all the pomp and circumstance, buddy. (And the nosy neighbors. Did I mention them? Yeah. All 1276 of them who came to ooh, ahh and get the firemens' autographs.)
The husband hitched up his pants and asked the Hydro Saviors how long the new electricity line installation would be and was informed that it would be v, v soon.
So we headed over to Grandad's and watched some nerve-soothing TV. Forty-five minutes later we headed home and were astounded to find out that the power had been back on for 21 minutes.
So we missed the farewell party for the Firemen and the Hydro guys and the whole let's-hold-hands-as-the-lights-go-back-on huggy/kissy thing that our neighbors probably participated in, but at least our house didn't burn down, nor did my computer die during the power surge. (I did lose both $49 power bars to my computer, while strangley my eldest boy's and husband cheapo power bars were FINE.)
The saddest thing is:
My cable line melted in said fire.
Have you no idea what a lack of quality television does to a person? (You've seen Survivor, haven't you?)
I had to watch Ella Enchanted three times so far (which is a fine movie) and (AND!) Agent Cody Banks. (which is NOT.)
It's just so sad to be me. (Even if I do pull in fab contracts amidst the chaos.)
Please send the cable repairman as soon as possible. I don't even mind if he smells like cabbage and chews like a warthog. Just please send him here. STAT.
Me, who is trying to not gnaw off her leg in anticipation.