This evening I had to ship you off to your dad a whole one and a half kilometres away. Not because you were naughty. Not because I wasn’t coping. But because we have no power here therefore no heat, no Shaun the Sheep, no hot water for your bath, and no heat to cook (or cough, heat up up your Woolies meal). I type this by torch, waiting for City Power to arrive to hopefully fix the problem.
I seldom rant here, and I’m not going to pretend that this “problem” is as bad as people who don’t have access to electricity at all, but boy am I thrown. And too cold to go to the loo.
Something about me: I hate waiting, I hate having things out of order or out of sorts, and I’m rather fond of routine. And when something isn’t working or amiss, it zaps my happiness (see what I just did there?). I’m trying to see the light (stop me right now), but am not seeing it so brightly (okay, I need to sign off soon).
So I’ll just shift closer to the cat for some body warmth…
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