Our power went out just as the Hall was really getting started last night. When it didn't come back on after ten minutes, Matt called the power company to report the outage.

An automated voice told him that a circuit had tripped at the substation and that we'd get power back around 11:30.

Well, shit. (And isn't this like the third time in the last six weeks that our substation has broken? Maybe it's time for it to become a manned station.)

So I tried to do some writing while Matt fidgeted. He decided that he was going to call the power company back and complain - but the system he reached was 100% automated, without a single option that allowed him to speak to a living human. I'm hopeful that was just because it was after hours, and that during business hours, there's a slightly different system.

Not overly hopeful, mind you, but a little.

I really hate power outages, this past year. I usually take them more or less in stride, with some minor whining, but the short outages really aren't that big of a deal. But we were without power for six days last September, after Hurricane Isabel blew through, and even more than the lack of hot water and AC, what drove me crazy was the constant droning of our neighbors' power generators.

At least three houses on our street have the damn things - and a couple of them start them up if the power's out for more than five freaking minutes. Are they doing surgery in there, or what? That noise has nearly replaced dripping water as a tension-trigger for me.

So I didn't get much writing done. And Matt didn't have much luck trying to think of something he could do to occupy himself by candlelight. Just a little after nine, we gave up and went to bed. (At least, thanks to Penny, we could be reasonably certain we wouldn't be late for work in the morning.)

Matt, restless, does not slide gracefully into a state of relaxation. Eventually, I made him get up so that I could get some sleep. (At least it was cool enough last night that we didn't feel compelled to open our windows. The power generator's hum was plenty audible as it was.) Eventually, he fidgeted himself into a state of exhaustion, and came to bed.

We both woke up around 1:30. Still no power. Matt called them again, and this time got a recorded message that there was a downed power line, and they expected we'd have power again by 3:30.

About 2:30, I woke to the realization that I was chilly, because the power had come back on and the ceiling fan was running. I pulled the blankets back over me and re-arranged my pillows a bit so I couldn't see the blinking of my clock, and tried to go back to sleep.

Except that fifteen minutes later, the phone rang.

Matt sprang out of bed to answer it. A phone call at 2:45am is almost certainly not a telemarketer.

It turned out to be the power comany - automated, of course - calling to verify that our power had been restored.

Their freaking automated system couldn't have included a freaking clock that waited until freaking morning for that???

--Liz