Things snowball sometimes, even in the spring. Weekends are among the most sacred of times when you work a 9-2-5. They do double-duty as recovery time as well as prep time for the coming week to do it all over again. I’m a proponent of the three-day weekend; life has grown so complicated that two days hardly cover it any more. So in April I had a Saturday that snowballed. I awoke vaguely thinking I might have to cut the grass. It’d actually been dry a few days and the sun was out. Then things started to get out of hand. A letter arrived from the IRS. Now, this is seldom welcome, but although it wasn’t scary it involved having to go back to our tax preparer’s office and, since tax day was just a couple days off, scheduling that was tricky.
Then the power went out. Under a clear blue sky. Being the middle of the day, we couldn’t tell if neighbors were affected or not. After leaving a message with PPL, I walked to a local store about a block away and they had power. The owner and I chatted a little, then I went home to await the PPL call or visit. Since the power was out I was keeping a close eye on my phone’s battery level. It was our only means of communication with the outside world. Meanwhile, all of what we’d planned to do that Saturday had to be put on hold. The house was quiet with no fridge hum or any other sound. Suddenly I heard a kind of airplane buzz, but it seemed to be coming from inside. I followed my ears to the kitchen where a big old bumblebee was trying to get outside. I grabbed one of our ubiquitous peanut butter jars and waited for it to land. The phone rang. PPL said everything was fine on their end and we had to call an electrician. It was now 4 p.m. on a Saturday, I was being buzzed by a bee, and I had to find an emergency electrician with my phone charge dropping.
I called a company I’d used before. After explaining everything they decided they no longer serviced our area. I called a second 24/7 electrician. They could get someone out to us on Friday. This was Saturday. My wife took the jar from my hand and went after the bee. The third company, which I will gladly use again, said they could get someone out by 9 p.m., at the latest. By now the entire afternoon was gone. My wife let the bee go outdoors and when we came back into the kitchen she said, “Isn’t that the fridge?” It was humming. Lights were out elsewhere so I made my fifth trip to the breaker box in the basement, using a flashlight, and tripped all the switches again. Power was back on. The electricians were good about canceling but suggested a follow up visit, just to check things out. The grass didn’t get cut. It was a snowball in April.