A Day to Forget.

Every other day, the electricity goes out. Usually, I hop up and down and beg, " Please come back!" —and it does. It comes back, and all I need to do is reset the electric clock and reboot the computer, and all is well.

Once every two or three weeks, the power does not come back. The computer dies. The internet dies. The lights die. The fans die. The fucking fans die, and do not come back. Today: 8:30 a.m. Reading Edith Wharton on my Google Nexus. A short story, The Reef. Not so short. 90+ degrees. No fans. Oh, when will the electricity return? 12 noon. 92 degrees. No fans. Still reading Wharton. Dogs flaked out on the tile floor. A little puff of a breeze appears. Hallelujah! For only a moment... Come back! More Wharton, in the hammock now. Sweating profusely. 95 degrees. No fans.

Still have ice. Orange juice -- with ice. Bliss. No fans. 3 p.m. Still reading Wharton. Switching to scotch and water and, yes, still ice. Sacrifice five ice cubes to dog water. Appreciated, I think. 4 p.m. Current should have returned by now. Please come back, o god of electricity. Need fans! Please!
5 p.m. Sun starting to set. I gather candles and matches. Oh, please come back, o great godfruits of electrical juice. I light a candle. Then a second. And— the fans come back! The computer comes back. Fuck Edith Wharton. Hurray for electricity! Life is good again. Fans -- what a concept! The end.