I'm wondering if I'm to blog every day. And if I blog every day, will my blogging become bloated and boring and blah. Can't have that. I can't assume that every thought or experience that floats around in my brain and fills every moment of my day is worth sharing with strangers. Friends maybe. Friends have earned the right to be bored. Strangers have not. I don't want this to become hellish to those who venture here to read these ordered words. And I do try to avoid the hellish except for this day.
My husband wakes me.
"It's 8:00. Wanna wake up?"
'I don't,' I think.
It's a diamond of a day and the light is pure and sharp as it pours in the window. It's a good light in which to start a day. Even for me whose love of waking late into the morning is lifelong. Then there's the cold. It's a Southern California cold but it's still cold for those of us just out of a long summer of hellish heat that lasted for too long. The thought of throwing off my quilted barrier to the chill becomes an act of courage.
My morning starts with preparing for the electrician. He will be shutting off the power for the day. We live in a duplex as a tenant shared by a couple, their two often screaming kids, and their two often barking octo-doxies. The wife is the niece of the owner of the duplex which once belonged to us. The niece wants central air in her residence presumably in a planned assault against Global Warming. The duplex is 1930's vintage requiring a major electrical upgrade to allow for this strategic defense. It's a hell we refused upon learning of the extent of breaking of walls here and creating dust, disorganization and general mayhem. Not to mention that this would affect me in several other negative ways, most of which would affect my well-being. Ms. Niece continued as planned. We suffered the power being off from 9:00 A.M. to 5:00 p.m., the thunderous sound of walls being torn down and power drills being powered into hard surfaces below. It was hellish. But it wasn't here and my home remained dustless and in order.
Ah, yes, the duplex. It was once ours and sold years ago the result of a catastrophic series of bad decisions. And that's all I will write on that. I will say that it was hellish, an earthquake of sorts; the aftershocks from which I still suffer.
Time of day is mostly unknown. Most of the clocks are powered by electric, not by battery or tiny, intricate wheels turning on seconds. It's hellish not knowing the time of day. I am aware and now envious of those who can tell time by the way the light lands. I can't. And I need the time of day as I have a doctor's appointment at 2:00. Let me add, I don't like most doctors. I will not go into why I need to see her on why I feel as I do, but trust me, it's hellish.
In between showering and seeing Dr. Who, I fit in giving my soon to be 17 year old Calico, Dolly, her subcutaneous fluids in hopes of staving off the deterioration of her kidneys as a result of Chronic Renal Failure. This is hellish for me and, dare I forget to say, hellish for her. But that she feels much improved after is our reward. But it's still hellish.
I have scheduled my return from the doctor appointment and various chores to see the electrician pull out of the driveway. I pull in to my garage, which now opens with my remote, and sense the return of electricity. I will revel in its ability to return light from darkness; it's ability to give me back the Internet and Word and will be reminded of how extremely addicted I am to convenience. It's hellish.