He Calls Me 'Old Yeller'
but it seems more like green to me
So last Saturday before Easter we had a power blackout. It was one of those nights, anyway; the kind where it’s like 3:12 in the mornin’ and ya sit bolt upright, eyelids stuck open, mind at warp speed. I’ve learned—do NOT stay in bed when that happens. Hilarity will not ensue.
So I settle in on the couch with a blanket and pillows and snackie and a good book and just as I’m getting into it all and really starting to enjoy myself *POP* sudden dark. Dammit. “Why do You hate me? What did I doooo?!?!?!?”
I wait. We’re on the same grid with the kiddie jail
down the road so these things rarely happen and are always fixed within minutes. Wouldn’t do to have the TVs go off in the guard towers. And I wait.
Then it strikes me—the ‘puter’s plugged in. There might be a surge. I better go unhook it. I’ve lived here about a brazillion years and I like to walk around in the dark—I do it alla time.
So - around the couch. Avoid the magazine rack, goood. Uh oh - the lamp; there it is. Thru the door, down the step. Step on the dog toy, kick the box, trip on the up step and *BAM* faceplant into the door frame. *STARS* *TWEETING BIRDS* shit.
I’ll just lie here quietly for a while. Maybe the dog will come visit. *sigh* Dog comes running thru, trips over me, runs off barking at the noise. *sigh* No one else wakes.
A while later, I settle myself back on the couch, bag of frozen peas on my face, candles lit so I can read, thinking how interesting my life has become of late.
The next morning, I thinks to my little self—‘Got away with that one—whew.’ Just a leeeedle scrape and maybe some tiny swelling. Though I feel a bit gypped considering how much it hurts. Nevermind. A little make-up and all is well. And Advil. For the headache. The three day headache.
This am I wake and note—ahhhh no headache. Yippie! Then I look in the mirror. Yellow cheekbone. And cheek. And not just any wimpy lemon color—oh, no. Screaming Chrome Yellow shading off to a nice sunset-over-Key-West green by my mouth.
O’course The Mister finds this the most hilarious thing since the Roadrunner. And eversingle friend he has chooses this morning to drop over. [My friends were apparently busy...] And each one had to be regaled with my tale of late night grace—at The Mister’s insistence.
And the power never did come on that night. I hadda call the Power Co and some poor schlubb hadda come out on Easter and climb up a pole and flip some breakers that broke.
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