Twilight Zone

Grey, rainy, and the sun never broke through what seemed like perpetual twilight yesterday.  Morning chores done, it was a good day to settle in for the last NASCAR race of the season, the race for the championship.  Blip!  The screen went dark.  Nooo!  I felt that I really had stepped into the Twilight Zone as I realized that once again we'd lost power, not even halfway through the race.  I have the PG&E outage hotline on speed dial on the landline phone that I maintain just for such emergencies.  Over the years, I feel I've developed a close relationship with the recorded voice that tells me to "Press 1 for complete outage," "Press 2 if there is no dog that would prevent access."  Having made the same call at midnight, I felt like saying, "Hi, it's me again."  I filled the oil lamps just in case we were in for the long haul and brought more firewood into the house while it was light enough to see if black widows were nesting in the rack.  The day was so dim that I needed a flashlight to read even at three o'clock.  At three-thirty, I decided I'd better make dinner while I could still see to chop onions, having defrosted meat for tacos earlier.  Dining by candlelight might be romantic, frying tortillas by lamplight is not.  Clay later texted me the results of the race; no ray of sunshine there as neither of our drivers won.  Nearly dark at four-forty-five, Bess and I stepped out to put the critters to bed.  Fully dark when we walked back to the quiet, oh-so-quiet house.  The ticking of the (battery-powered) clock in the kitchen and the hiss of a fresh log on the fire were the only sounds heard.  Then, a few minutes after six, there was a click and hum as the refrigerator kicked on.  Could it be?  I turned on a lamp and was gratified to see light!  We had made it through another journey to the Zone.