So, what exactly is rock bottom for this particular addiction?

Good afternoon!

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Now...on Monday, which most of you know is my "Marathon Monday" where I work from 7 AM until 8 Pm at Stuff, Installed, all so I have a glorious three days every week where I don't have to wonder just how Captain Nubbin is going to find a way to either be MORE useless or be a BIGGER obstacle in my day.  Anyway, on Monday, I sat at my desk, as I have several of these last Mondays and watched horrible storms roll in.  I was convinced, as I've been the last several Mondays during this fantastic unstable weather season we call Summer, that I was going to die at my desk as high winds, wild rains, and a smattering of hail threatened to break through the shoddily installed windows in our showroom.  (Note:  We at Stuff, Installed did NOT install those windows.  We do not install shoddily.)

So I was sitting there at my desk watching yet another Monday's edition of Weather Armageddon when I get a text from Hubby.  

There's No Power.

Crap on a cracker...I hate no power days.  Granted, compared to other houses I've lived in, and compared to other neighborhoods in my area, we've been pretty blissful when the power goes out around us. So I guess it was our turn.  Still, he sent the text at 6, and that gave the power company almost two and a half hours to get out there and get my AC and my TV turned on.

It's not like I've never been without power before.  I have.  Why do you think I wish we still used manual typewriters?  Power outages when I was a teen was NOTHING...I mean, back then we'd only had electricity for what, three, four years?  But now...everything depends on electricity.

This is one shelf...one of many.

Now, the joke in our house is that without power, we'd still have light because of my cache of Partylite candles.  And that is true.  I have enough candles to pretty much fully light my house for a week or two, brightly enough to read, sew, fold laundry, whatever.  I'm not exaggerating.  I love candles.  I have a lot of them.

So light, we've got light.  And we've got food because you do not need electricity to grill or cook on the top of our gas stove.  Again, having a ton of candles means I have enough of those long stemmed candle lighters to go on tour with...pick a band, I don't feel like being mocked for my music tastes at the moment...and have a lighter to last through an entire summer of power ballads.   Hubby hit the grocery store, got steaks for Skippy, Other Daughter, and me.  (Hubby is a vegetarians, he grilled some sort of sweet potato/corn mixture.)  Peaches, as most of you know was in France, enjoying French food cooked in a building that probably had electricity.  I can't swear to it, mostly because everything I picture in Paris is from 1944..I've been watching A LOT of World War II pictures lately.

So, light, and food.  And I have enough light to read and enough wine to stay in good humor.

But, as I picked my way through the downed trees and outed stop lights between Stuff, Installed and my house, I knew that was NOT going to be enough.  As it happens with most summer storms in Wisconsin, while there was a wild wind, there was also a heavy, sweaty humidity.  People think we're always cold up here, and that's true for 8 months out of the year.  Then we have two weeks of lovely spring and two weeks of lovely autumn, and in the middle of all that is three months of sweaty, sweltering tropical weather, complete with mosquitoes as thick as a sweater.

AHHHHH, lovely Wisconsin.

When I arrived home everything smelled good. Between the two dozen scented candles and the steak grilling in a tiny corner of the driveway just out of the rain, the place made your mouth water.

But inside the house was like one of those movies in set in the tropics where guys wear Hawaiian shirts and everyone is shiny.  Other Daughter and Skippy were splayed out on the leather furniture, afraid to move lest they stick and wind up having to peel layers of skin off just to get off the couch.  (Sort of that frozen tongue on the flag pole thing, but in reverse.)

Hubby was cheerful, having cooked a delightful meal and consumed a couple beers.  We have a gas water heater, so he was cheerfully elbow deep in a sink of soapy water, washing dishes.


I'd been at work for 13 hours. I wanted AC and TV.  

I would have done better in chemistry class if this had been
the table of elements and I had been the age I am now.

We ate the steaks, they were wonderful.  I even read a little.  I didn't have any wine, although I should have.  Perhaps a couple glasses of wine would have helped me fall asleep without the cooling breezy of my oscillating fan and the calming hum of the central air.

And oh yeah, I always, ALWAYS, ALWAYS fall asleep with the TV on.  ALWAYS.  I can't tell you a night in the last ten years where I haven't.  (Well, okay, when Marie and I are having fun with our "Two Moms and Three Glasses of Wine" idea for a podcast, then yeah, I may have fallen asleep without the TV, but I still have a fan.)

So there I am, lying in bed, sweating. Hubby, who seriously can fall asleep anyplace, any time, was already asleep.  I took a cool shower.  That comfort lasted about eight minutes.  And I started sweating again.  I hit the Tylenol PM and took another cool shower. But the silence in the house, the black screen of the TV and the humidity battled me a long time until, I guess, around midnight I fell asleep.

At 1:19 Am the power came back on. How do I know?  Well, I'd turned on the fan, I'd turned on the exhaust fan in the bathroom, and I'd switched on the bathroom light in the hopes that they'd come on and I'd relax.  What actually happened was they came on and I awoke in a gleeful state!  I jumped out of bed joyfully...
and I turned on the TV.  I turned on a rerun of "Friends" (thank you Nick at Night) set the sleep timer to 60 minutes.  I lay down, floating on a cool breeze and the gentle hum of the central air...and I fell asleep in about two minutes.  I didn't even make it through the "Friends" opening theme song.

So...I'm thinking this is not how a normal adult woman should be.  I mean, clearly there's an addiction I wasn't aware of.  I'll admit to being addicted to checking my Kindle Self Publishing stats.  I'll admit to being addicted to Grumpy Cat memes and big giant Hollywood period movies.  I'll even admit a tiny addiction to wine with french onion dip and low fat chips.  (Thank you, Marie!)

But TV, and AC...yep, I'm an addict.

Is there a twelve step program for this?  When do I know if I've hit rock bottom?

Was Monday night my rock bottom?

Is there someplace BELOW where I am now?

Okay, so, Americans, Happy fourth of July!  England, enjoy getting the first couple legs of the Tour de France!  And speaking of France, Peaches, enjoy the rest of your time there!  We miss you, but we know you're having a blast!

AND EVERYONE!  Please buy my books so I can quit my job and spend MORE time standing lines and driving among idiots!  CLICK HERE to help make that dream a reality!