The darkest hour is just before dawn.

New years eve was actually quite fun… considering there was no electricity.


Ah, yes… talking about a flashback to living in Santa Cruz when the power would always be out because of a major storm on new year’s eve, knocking power out left and right. 


Renee was here for our lovely celebration.  So was Stan.  Renee and I picked up Ricky from day care and walked to the flat… only to realize that it was rather dark.  By opening the front door and flicking the hall lights. Hmm.  No lights.  So Renée and I stumbled up the stairs with Ricky in tow to find… well, it wasn’t the hall light that burned out.  There were no lights in my flat either. Sigh.


Interestingly enough though was that it was ONLY my flat that had no lights.  I quickly ran through my head, “Have I paid the bill?”  The answer was yes.  So what the hell?  Why did psycho have lights and the folks downstairs, but not me?  What the hell?


I walked across the street to Elaine and mentioned all this.  While her husband got us matches and a camping light, she relayed how she found it interesting that I didn’t have lights but psycho did.  Weird, eh?


I called the landlord about it and she sent her son to check it out.  Turns out a fuse blew.  No big deal, right?  Just flip the switch, right?  Oh no.  That would be too easy.  I live in a renovated Victorian.  The fuse is an antique.  There are no stores open on New Years Eve that would sell said fuse.  I was given a choice: lights or fridge and heater?  You know which one I took!


Happy New Year!!


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