It was, in fact, the day that the Mau-Mau went to school, and both boys went to school, and Natalie went to work, and my parent(s) were back in North Queensland.
I guess you could say I've been waiting nearly nine years for this one. Certainly, I've been actively anticipating it since before Christmas last year -- savouring the prospect of a day largely to myself, to focus on the things I want to achieve in writing.
That's how it was supposed to be. Me. My computer. And six whole uninterrupted daylight hours in which to work. Nobody shouting and arguing. Nobody watching movies outside my study. Nobody demanding food, drinks, resolution to arguments, answers to ridiculous questions. Just me, and the muse.
And so, of course, at roughly 0930, the power went out.
I connected the old-style phone we keep for precisely this reason. (Walkie-phones die when their mains power goes.) I rang Aurora, the power company. No -- no power losses in my area. I pressed buttons, and eventually spoke to a nice lady. She made me go through a complicated and -- to my mind -- rather stupid routine of shutting off everything in the fusebox, and then turning it all back on again in a very particular fashion.
The power did not come on.
She advised me to ring again in an hour. There might be news.
I rang a neighbour. He didn't have power either. So it wasn't a fault at my end. Good.
An hour later, there was no news.
I read some books. I worked in the garden.
There was no news two hours later.
At 12.30 or so, the phone rang. A cheery woman on the other end asked me if the power was on. It was not. I went outside to the fusebox and performed the Pointless Ballet Of The Power Switches once more, and the power resolutely remained non-existent.
Ah, she said. Obviously the crew hadn't located all the faults yet.
Oh. Fucking great.
At a little after two, just as I was packing up to go shopping and fetch the kids, the power came back on.
I don't really think I can convey how angry and disappointed I was. I know -- I should probably take it all in my stride. Power outages happen when you live in the bush, yeah.
But... I was really, really looking forward to yesterday.
Now all I want to do is kick someone.
Next time you see a politician of any stripe, just pointedly yell "Do you know why everyone with any sense hates politicians? Infrastructure!"
ReplyDeleteI really do understand. And soon, my friend, very soon I shall enjoy 3 mornings p/week to myself.
ReplyDeleteThere will be more. Kids have 40 weeks of school after all...
ReplyDeleteGuess they privatised the Tassie power companies to. If your fusebox is a circuit breaker box work out if the breakers a) trip off b) trip half off. if b) reset by switching off and then on (that style only resets that way). Otherwise all you can do is wait. As to outages had plenty in Canterbury Rd, not just the Bush,just privatisation.
ReplyDeleteBartski: there are plenty of other reasons to hate politicians, honestly. Infrastructure is a four-syllable word, and I wouldn't expect them to recognise it. When I have to explain to politicians why I won't shake hands or go near them, generally I say quite simply "Because I'm afraid the smell won't wash off."
ReplyDeleteI know they understand that phrase. I can always tell, because their faces go red about three minutes afterwards, when they finally figure it out.
Bangar: I'm not sure what you mean by 'trip off' or 'trip half off.' Can you clarify? And yes: thoroughly privatised. Stupid bastards.
Don't kick me!
ReplyDeleteWhile I personally wouldn't do this either, you seem like such a resourceful dude that I figure YOU would just grab a pen and paper and still make good use of your time.
ReplyDeleteOh man, I feel your pain. I remember my first day of escape from Total Parenthood. What a sweet, sweet fucking liberation that was. I think I just saw in the quiet and did nothing for an hour.
ReplyDeleteYou have my sympathy.
Flinthart, the breaker will trip halfway between on and off and if pushed towards on won't latch on. It has to pushed to off first and then to on.
ReplyDelete