The Week, So Far

It began with a bang.

Well, more of a "whump." Sunday morning, the first day, the sun was barely up and the Big Lug and I were dozing in and out of sleep. Suddenly, that sound jerked us into reality. "Was that what I think it was?" he asked, quite clearly. Around here, at least after 9/11, if you even hear an overloaded truck rumble on the breeze you stop and listen for a moment. "Uh-huh," I mumbled, "but the fan stopped, too, and - " I lifted my head, squinted at my alarm clock's blank face, dropped back to the pillow, " - no power. Transformer blew."

It was on the street, and our window was open because it's been so hot. It was zapped once before, but during a thunderstorm, not a clear sky. We both knew that, but he got it first and (just in case) looked at the sky - for clouds, for smoke, for a mushroom-shaped ... nah, that's my job. Anyway, he saw nothing that would have caused a problem. "I'll look for seepage," I heard him say as he grabbed his bathrobe. The basement sometimes leaks long after storms (which we'd had Saturday) have passed, and if we had water we'd need to hook up the generator to the new power-thingie that we had put in for just such an eventuality. "And I'll check the outside of the new panel," I said - or think I said, since I was still half-asleep. "Maybe it shorted out." They hadn't actually put in the new meter yet, and it's still a mishmash of old and new power cable.

Nothing, no problems. I called the electric company, reported the outage and the explosion, and got dressed. There was no way I was hanging around if I couldn't make coffee. I was going to Starbucks. While I was struggling into a T-shirt (it was still hot), the Big Lug got a call and described the incident to a repair guy. I left.

Twenty minutes later, as I was sipping the nectar of the gods, he called my cell. "Squirrel," he said in a slightly strangled voice.

"Nuts," I returned, baffled by this word game.

"No, honey, a squirrel. Stretched out on both leads. Not much left now but a powdery - "

"Ew," I said.

"Uh-huh," he said, "we were awakened by an exploding squirrel."

The company man changed the transformer equivalent of a fuse (involving silicone cable and some kind of "tongue" lever or switch - the Big Lug was describing the procedure in gleeful detail, but I couldn't picture it) and, after moving seamlessly from the fearful to the ridiculous, everything was back to normal.

"Normal," of course, being relative. I am, apparently, once again the center knot in a (student's) parental tug-of-war. You'd be surprised how often that happens - teachers and care providers are cannon fodder in any ongoing war of ex's. Usually, it's a divorced husband and wife - one who paid, and one who didn't - but this time it's a stepmom and a mom. I spoke to both of them, without knowing I was supposed to only talk to the step. Now I have a password that I must ask for before I give any information to anyone, and under no circumstances am I supposed to talk to the mother at all.

Exploding squirrels give you perspective. I chose absurdity.

Good thing, too, because I was digging up more "sod" this morning, and, after a needed and earned break, came out to find this:



Flamingoes. One of the Lug's sisters sent flamingoes. Today is halfway between our birthdays, which, I suppose, is the perfect time to send it, if there's ever a perfect time for flamingoes. Very attention-grabbing, for sure - I was outside stripping sod until the 90-degree mark hit, and every person who passed, in cars or with their dogs, slowed to look, even wave and honk. Amazing what a flocking bunch of flamingoes can do, isn't it?

There was a single, sublime moment, too - I saw a rose-breasted grosbeak at my feeder as I was formatting the type here. I've never seen one in real life before. On my 40th, Mama Angel sent me an indigo bunting, and now I did the same thing I did then, just grinned and grinned and ... yeah, I'm a geek. But what a way to wind down this bizarro beginning-of-the-week.

So next comes a long, cool shower and a couple of tutorial students, then a good book and a snuggle with the Big Lug. At least, that's the agenda. Gotta tell you, though, if there's something waiting that can top flamingoes, grosbeaks, knotty ropes, and exploding squirrels, I won't mind a hiccup in the plan - as long as I can treasure it, too.