Today I was going to have a picture of The Skipper’s finished socks. Alas, life had other plans for me that did not include completing the toe of his sock. The weather has been as humid as a rain forest. Last night the polar vortex air and the rain forest air met and we had gentle rain.
I was working on the sock, luxuriating in the feel of not having a knitting deadline to meet, and reconnecting with knitting as relaxation when the cable tv went out. When the cable goes out it so does the tv, phone, and internet. Bundling, I’ve always felt, is a bad idea for exactly this reason. Lose one, lose all.
I put the knitting down, out of Yarn Rascal’s reach to excavate the cell phone from the bottom of my pocketbook to call the cable company. I didn’t speak to a real person, but the cable company computer said it was a widespread problem and they were “working on it.” I went back to knitting sure in the knowledge that cable would not be back on anytime soon but the socks would be finished.
Yarn Rascal was preparing an imminent strike on the sock and the yarn which I was getting ready to deter when the lights went out. The rain continued to gently fall and Yarn Rascal’s strike, in the dark, was a complete success. I think I can say with certainty that the dog thrives in the dark, it is Yarn Rascal’s milieu. With sock, yarn and needles he was gleefully racing around the living room and not knocking into anything. Meanwhile totally blind in the dark, trying not to accidentally step on Yarn Rascal, I shuffled toward the kitchen. I missed the opening to the kitchen—where the candles and flame throwing lighter reside—and walked into the wall instead. Behind me, the scurrying of little feet on the rug meant Yarn Rascal was unwinding the yarn, though whether it was unwinding from the sock end or the ball end of the yarn I couldn’t tell.
After plowing into the kitchen table, and stepping in Yarn Rascal’s water dish, I managed to unite candle and flame thrower. The small circle of light it created was pitiful. There was no way I could see what Yarn Rascal was doing in the living room. At this point, I was on a countdown to disaster. I could either try to find and untangle Yarn Rascal from the knitting and yarn with this feeble light, or I could call the electric company and speak to it’s computer to learn how long they thought the outage would be. Precious minutes were being lost as I decided. My fancy goldfish, which I’ve had for 12 years now, needs to have moving water. When the water stops moving I have 30 minutes to get it up and running again which is mostly why we bought a generator.
I called the power company and the computer said it was a widespread problem and estimated the lights would be back on “sometime within the next 24 hours.” That meant I had to set up the generator by myself because The Skipper was out. So I headed toward the garage, open flame candle in hand.
When Yarn Rascal saw me walk through the living room with the candle it was the first time he’d ever seen a candle. He assumed it was a stick. He loves sticks. So he launched and relaunched his jumping, leaping and high pitched barking attack he does for sticks while I tried not to drop the candle. He was a dog with springs on his feet. As I tried not to set the place on fire, it suddenly came to me that it might not be a great idea to go into the garage where flammable things are stored and haul around a gas powered generator with an open candle flame as light.
Fighting Yarn Rascal all the way, I traversed the length of the house to search for and retrieve a flash light. The first one I found was knocked from my hands by Yarn Rascal, crashed to the floor and broke. Yarn Rascal was now wound up into a nice froth and thought everything I touched was a potential plaything. The second one I secured had a warning siren on it and a flasher along with a regular flash light. I doused the candle and turned on The Unit. The warning siren and flasher repelled Yarn Rascal like bug repellent repels bugs.
In the end, I got the generator set up and running. There was a hairy moment when I couldn’t remember which plug went where, but I guessed right. My goldfish survived. The sock is alive too, but in need of care. Yarn Rascal managed to rip out quite a bit of knitting which I will fix as soon as I untangle and unwind the ball of yarn from around and underneath the lounger.
If life gets anymore relaxing it just might kill me.
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