Yesterday, Tuesday, was a hard day.

I had gone to bed around 2AM, when the outside temperature was a terrifying -13 degrees. Would my power go off? Would my pipes then freeze? Would the kitties be OK in their heated winter cat house with no heat?

I fell right asleep. It was 72-degrees inside.

At 5:30AM, I woke. Two things were instantly obvious:

1. The fan I keep on as white sound was no longer on.
2. The room was cold. It was not 72-degrees.

I knew: the power had gone out.

And…fuck. Fuck!

Was the issue unique to my house? Or larger? I recall getting an alert from the energy company, so I clicked the email on my iPhone. Kansas looked mostly OK. But my small town?

Yikes.

This is actually better than just my house being impacted by, say, a down line which could take a while to repair. A larger failure though is usually addressed quickly.

Of course, the lack of power could be a deliberate shutdown to save power, and all would likely be OK in a few hours.

The inside temperature was now 64-degrees.

There was nothing I could do, so I went back to bed, after setting the alarm for an hour later. I would then see if the power was back on.

At 6:30AM, the alarm went off. The room was even colder, and the fan was still off.

Fuck.

I have an old-fashion wall-mounted heater which is gas rather than electric. If I could get it working it would soon toast the house. It is powerful.

After some fits and starts, it came to life. Immediately, the heat was intense.

I WAS SAVED!

But…but…it smoked. It is not suppose to smoke. Was this just some bits of debris being burned off? Or was the smoke something that would kill me while I slept? Not knowing either way, I reached down to turn it off.

And the instant I turned the switch off…

…the lights returned to life and I could hear the heating unit also switch on.

I WAS SAVED!

It was 62-degrees inside. Certainly OK. I went back to bed, a smile on my face.

The alarm woke me at 8AM. I had to get up to put two boxes of lights on the porch for FedEx, and Justin was coming by at 9 to work on my house.

And 5 hours of sleep is sooooooo not enough for me.

 

I fed the kitties and they seemed fine in their heated winter house. Whew.

When Justin arrived, I said: “How do you feel about going to the Cross House right now to check it out?”

He smiled. “I knew you’d ask that.”

And off we were.

Coming into Emporia we noticed right away that the traffic lights were not working. And the businesses lining the road clearly had no electricity.

My anxiety rose.

Then we encountered some working traffic lights, and passed some businesses with lights on. Then back to obvious power outages.

Pulling up to the house the tell-tale sign of the boilers being on was missing: A plume of steam rising from the south facade.

Justin and I looked at each other, concern etched across our faces.

Stepping inside, the house was not cold, really, but nor warm. The thermostat was set at 60. It was not 60 inside. Walking to the thermostat, the interior temperature was 49-degrees. Not great but not scary. OK!

Was the power out because of some terrible city-wide damage? Or due to selective shut-downs? We did not know.

The radiators were vaguely warm.

We then shut off the main water line, and drained the water lines. In the event that the interior dipped below 30-degrees at least catastrophe would now be averted. It was only later that I laughed at this idiocy. For, the miles of radiator pipes, and the dozens of radiators…are all filled with water. If all this froze, the damage would be catastrophic and terrifying.

Forty minutes after arriving, the inside temperature had dropped 4-degrees. Justin and I looked at each other, worry evident in our faces. This was bad. Yet, there was nothing more we could do.

We finished up and then, just as we were getting ready to leave, I heard a shout from Justin: “The power is back on!”

I glanced up. The 1890s gas/electric chandelier had glowing bulbs! Then I heard the distinct whine of the radiator boilers turning on.

I WAS SAVED!

 

Returning to my house, I belatedly realized the the power being off for X hours would have certainly frozen the outside filter for my fish pond. This is a large plastic “egg” about two-feet-high which filters the pond water and sits on the ground. As long as water flows through it, it will not freeze. But now?

Fuck.

I removed its hoses, hauled the egg into my bathtub, took its top off (after pouring hot water over the top for a while), and was confronted by solid ice. I had a miniature iceberg in my tub.

Fuck.

As all this was happening, plus my dealing with business matters, I felt loopy due to a lack of sleep. Justin would ask me questions about how to resolve some issue about what he was working on and I would look at him confused. WHAT was he talking about? He would shrug his head and walk away. He understood why I was loopy.

Around 3PM, I was able to bring the now defrosted egg back outside, hook it back up, turn it on, and…then I had NO idea if it was doing its job as the river it fed, and small waterfall into the pond, had frozen over last week, thus covering all evidence of water actually moving underneath.

I got a crowbar and punched through the ice over the waterfall. And could see…a waterfall.

I WAS SAVED!

 

Returning by myself to the Cross House, I arrived at 4PM. Pulling into the driveway I could see a cloud of steam floating away from the south facade.

I WAS SAVED!

Stepping inside, I was met with, relatively speaking, warmth. It was 56-degrees inside! The boilers whined way as I worked to seal more windows. It was 5-degrees outside.

I had a 6PM meeting, and at 5PM, I knew I had to get some sleep. So I curled atop the parlor sofa, with my leather jacket draped over me, and instantly fell sleep.

THRUMP!

My eyes bolted open. What had been that loud sound?

THRUMP!

There it was again. It sounded like somebody was throwing something heavy on the front porch. But that made no sense. And I was now loopier than ever. So, my eyes quickly closed and I drifted off.

THRUMP!

My eyes bolted open. Fuck! What was that?

Argh! All I could think of was that the sound was big icicles dropping down onto the porch deck. A small part of by brain went: In 5-degree weather? No way!

Being too loopy to engage in debating the issue, my eyes quickly closed and I drifted off.

THRUMP!

THRUMP!

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What was going on?

But then silence. My eyes quickly closed and I drifted off.

THRUMP!

I woke. I shook my head. Then my eyes quickly closed and I drifted off.

I soon woke to a new sound. Opening my eyes, and looking to the entry hall where the noise seemed to be coming from, I saw a man walk by and I heard the front doors being opened.

Was I hallucinating? Who could possibly be in the house? I called out: “Justin?” No reply. Me, louder: “Justin?”

I heard a response but it was unintelligible. I got up and walked to the wide-open front doors. Cold wind blew into the house. And there, on the porch deck….

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The Other Justin had hauled each bundle from his truck and dumped them on the porch deck.

THRUMP! THRUMP! THRUMP!

Thus cruelly depriving me of a half-hour of necessary sleep.

But…squee…the repair flooring is in the house!

And I was also informed today that my first Covid shot is scheduled for the 24th!