A peaceful Sunday Afternoon, Or Not

Two thirty. So, it’s Sunday afternoon. Kate gets up from her nap—Gabby has yet to have one. We make a mad dash to the store. I hate to go to the store and the weekend and try not to patronize businesses on Sunday as much as possible, but I goofed. I was sure I had ground beef in the freezer, but I couldn’t find it. This would normally just mean a change of menu, but we had invited guests for dinner.

Three forty. We make it through my grocery list—no need to come back tomorrow, right. We get through the checkout. By this time, I’m holding the baby who is tired of sitting. She likes to fall over and be held like a battering ram—I don’t know why, but it makes completing a transaction and pushing a cart of groceries (and Kate) rather difficult. As we walk out the door it hits me—I forgot the beef. It wasn’t on my original list. I sigh, look at the cart full of groceries and my girls. There’s no way. Besides there has to be beef in that freezer, right?

Three fifty. So we get home. I put the baby to bed. Run out and get the perishables, the rest can wait. Dig through the freezer one more time. There it is. Ugh, I wasted over an hour, but at least I can make dinner. I put the beef in the microwave to thaw and start cooking. Justin calls to say that his new colleague’s power is off. They’ve been unpacking as I’ve been preparing dinner. He’s on his way. I pop the lasagna in. We should be good to go. The power flashes. Ah, I thought the power company must have turned on the power for our friends.

Four forty-five. Justin runs upstairs to get the baby because he woke her up when he got home. He says it’s hot. He always thinks it’s hot. It is a bit warm. He pops his head out the back door the air conditioner isn’t running. The blower is though. I check on our lasagna. It’s not bubbling yet, soon I thought. Justin calls the home warranty company to request service for the air conditioner. The lasagna is still not bubbling. Something is wrong. He cancels the service call. I call the power company. Two to four hours their message predicted—if only.

Five fifteen. We call our dinner guests. We decide to go out to dinner.

Six thirty. We get home just before the electrician. He was a nice fellow. He chatted with us as he checked the lines. 110 on the left 110 on the right. He jokes, “I didn’t go to MIT, but 110 and 110 should equal 220.” Yep. He says he’s never seen anything like it—that’s never good. They teach you that in home ownership 101, by the way.

He says something about the lines melting together. Melting doesn’t sound to good either. He makes a call. Hooks our meter back up (which isn’t spinning by the way), so we have lights. He leaves us to take another call. No offers from the company to allow us to take our two small children to someplace cooler, nothing. Just an, “I have another call, we’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

Seven forty-five. Inside, it’s 82 degrees downstairs and 87 upstairs; I put the girls to bed. Gabby drifts off. Kate plays quietly and asks for three cups of water.

Eight thirty. Eventually we let Kate come down. The baby is sleeping peacefully in her diaper. Kate breaks beans with me. I hear a truck out front. They are back—it’s after nine. Justin asks for a heads up before they pull our power.

Ten-twenty. It’s still 87 degrees upstairs, but I really want Kate in bed before the power goes off, so we read a book, sing a song, and off to bed she goes.

Ten-forty. They are taking us off line. We grab a flashlight and head upstairs. We may as well get ready for bed. Pretty soon we should be cooling down.

Eleven. Our power is back on. The air runs all night recovering from the past seven hours of heat building up.

Three (AM). The baby wakes up. She finally got cold enough to need her pajamas.

Seven. Kate was up before her alarm too because she wet the bed—imagine that after three cups of water. But it’s cool in our house and our oven works!