Sometimes a noise wakes you; sometimes the absence of noise wakes you. I stirred this morning, rolled over enough to see the clock, and saw — nothing. The fan in the corner was dead. Great, thought I. Power outage. I duly punched up OG&E on the phone, reported the calamity, and after a few minutes the Brain Ready light finally came on.
You may remember this incident from the spring:
There used to be a metal pole west of the driveway that contained a light fixture; the light would go on at dark and turn off at sunrise, or at least it did for a while. Then the bulb socket broke, and I didn’t rush to have it fixed; when the ground to the west began eroding away, the pole began to lean at an embarrassing angle. Finally, on a day of 60-mph winds, the pole loosened up from what little base it had, and a couple of scavengers hauled it off for scrap metal.
I don’t miss it, exactly, but I’m wondering what I should do with this length of cable the thieves left behind. I am loath to call my usual electrician, since he’s fixated on bringing the whole house up to code, at a price that leaves little change from a $10,000 bill.
At the time, I covered up the bare ends of the wires and tucked the cable behind a shrub. Now, however, was a real opportunity. I threw on just enough clothing to avoid arrest and went at it with a pruning hook. Got the stub down below ground level, and then dropped a large rock over it.
As I was tossing that length of cable into the trash bin, the lights came back on. Had I dawdled three minutes more, you would presumably not be reading this.