Transitioning into my house after moving back from Australia, although exciting, has certainly had its challenges. Attempting to stay with my teenage daughter at my never-quite-empty-nest parents’ house was the start. As generous as my parents were with their home, their beloved cat was equally as generous with her attention and fur. Unfortunately I am quite allergic (to both the fur and attention). We tried to come to some reasonable understanding, the cat and I. She could fondle and claw my luggage, but not me; I would gladly play hide & seek with the covers, but smothering by fur was clearly out of the question. Alas, the lines quickly blurred and with tears in my eyes (from sadness or allergies who can say for sure) I was forced to make a new plan.
My friend still renting my house, immediately cleared out space for two. Cat free dorm room fun ensued until allergies struck again. This time it hit me where it hurt, right in my Fluffernutter. My roomies little one is fatally allergic to several things including peanut butter. Having lived with this for 8 years the dynamic peanut avoiding duo took my sandwich needs in stride, simply asking me to thoroughly sterilize anything that may come in contact with the peanut butter, including me. Having never been a fan of keeping guns, swords, or other weapons I decided to forgo peanuts in any form.
When the day came for the official move it was bittersweet. Getting complete control of my house (and more importantly fridge) was exciting, but having the lights go out on our single mom frat house was sad; particularly, when the lights actually did go out. Apparently the line between occupier and owner cannot be mixed online. And so, in 2012, I actually had to speak with a human. Not that I’m opposed to this, in fact I was giddy with excitement (although that could have something to do with the sudden unexpected and complete lack of all other stimulus).
I leapt through the various prompts to get to my very own Electric Company Human, Joe. He heard my story and calmly explained that I would be without power for at least a day. Now it may have been the electronic withdrawal setting in or my complete and udder lack of a filter, but my immediate reaction was “Are you sure the tech won’t come back? Can you tell him I’m cute?” At this point, Joe could have done any number of things; graciously he asked how I could be most easily be reached. I gave him my cell number since I would be going out to buy candles. I could tell Joe was loosening up, so I quickly added that I may even find a battery operated radio (so exotic!). And then it happened, that moment that I will always treasure, validation. Joe chuckled and said “I’ve just finished placing the work order and I did mention that you are cute.” I couldn’t believe my luck, first speaking to a human and now this. I hardly choked out “So, how soon will the power be turned on?” Without missing a beat Joe said “In about 24 hours and it states in your file that you are cute.” So as I sit here in the dark conserving my batteries, I am warmed by the fact that its official, I’m cute…it’s in my file.