I must hurry to write this, and get it where it’s going.
I hate to rush and don’t often have to, but today, I blame the power company.
Two or three weeks ago, I noticed big equipment trucks in my driveway, which was swarming with yellow-jacked, hard-hatted men. They were, they explained, changing out the power pole. They busied themselves around outside; I paid little attention.
But suddenly, they climbed into their trucks and started heading back down the driveway. “When will you come back to finish?” I called. “Tomorrow or Wednesday,” they said.
They just didn’t say which Wednesday. For a few weeks, the new power pole rested alongside the edge of my yard. It was placed just over the spot where my peonies pop up come spring. At least, where the peonies used to pop.
Each day, I’d look out, and there it would be. The brand new, abandoned power pole. Then, this past Monday, I heard banging and clanging out there. They were back! I was relieved the job would be done that day. I tootled off to go for my walk, and to the store.
When I returned, everything looked the same. The new pole was still down; the old pole still stood its ground. No workmen were in evidence. Hmmm.
Yesterday morning, before I even woke up, my sister called. “There’s a man walking up your driveway,” she alerted. Well, she wanted to alert me, but I had the ringer turned off on the phone. So, my sister being a no-nonsense person, turned around, came back, and confronted the lone man. He explained they were with the power company and were coming to put in the pole.
But, no pole was put anywhere yesterday. I didn’t leave the house until about 5 o’clock when I walked down the driveway to get the mail. And there, in my door, was a note: “Power off Wednesday from 8 a.m. until noon. Thanks. Hank.”
Well, Hank, you have turned my whole day sideways. I am retired. I sleep in most every morning. I rarely am up and about until 9 a.m. It’s one of the few, small perks of being retired.
My first thought: What about coffee? Coffee is always my first thought in the morning, no matter the hour. And then, suddenly, it hit me: Geez! My Covington column is due tomorrow at 10 a.m. And I had no earthly idea what I’d write about, or how I’d get it typed on the page and emailed down there.
So, I flipped my thinking around. Last night, I made a pot of cappuccino, complete with the frothed milk, and stored it in the microwave. It would be necessary to arise at the still-dark hour of 6:30 to microwave the coffee, turn on the computer, and come up with what is this column. It was not an idea I relished. But, as I got into it, it became an adventure of sorts.
It is now 7:15 a.m., and I am sitting here thinking and typing madly. My hot coffee is still warm. I am watching the sunrise, if there were a sun to rise this morning, which there is not.
Time is passing quickly. Hank and his team are on their way. So, I’ve decided this column is, by golly, darn near finished. At least, it better be. So, I guess I gotta love it – getting up before the crack of dawn.
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