No Power Mornings

I am back. I am not sure what the topic of today's screed should be. I could go over the weekend in review, but nah!!! In another life I would have taken how today began as a bad omen. Not now. It was just one of those things. It was just starting to get light out when the wife asked me if the power was out. I look at my clock, why she did not do the same I am not sure but it may have something to do with her not wearing her glasses/contacts, and see it is dark. I get up to get her watch to see the time, to which she asks why I do not put on the television and get the time that way. I let her try.

I could have been really sarcastic and nasty but did not want to start the day that way. It was quarter to seven by the way. I could tell it was between six thirty and seven by the amount of light in the sky. I am fucking Copernicus that way. Anyway, it had been a crappy sleep in any event. It was just too fucking warm in here and I was not about to put on the A/C for some strange reason.

To top it all, the bathtub had clogged. I put in a whole bottle of drain declogger the night before but by the time we went to bed, the clog remained and tub was half full of slimy water (the lad had showered that night, and not too soon as he was a bit ripe). I was thinking that I would need to get the drain opener from my mother. The shit she has can barely be contained by the plastic bottle it is in. It is sulfuric acid and has a great smell when added to the clog, if you like the smell of rotten eggs and who doesn't? Anyway, that problem was solved when I took the flashlight into the bathroom (it was still a bit dark) and noticed the tub had drained, which could only mean that the declogger ate away at whatever organic gunk had clogged the drain in the first place.

I got the wife's shower stuff from the basement bathroom, since she could use the upstairs shower. She did her thing with a flashlight on. She had just finished when the power came back around quarter to eight. I figured this whole no power wake up would doom the day. I then recalled about ten years ago when I lost my keys, on the subway no less, and figured that I would lose my shirt trading that day. It was about a week before the lad was born, too. I actually had a good trading day (made money) eventhough my routine had been interupted. I think the lesson is that the routine is not set in stone and that it serves no purpose other than to give me the illusion of control.

No more illusions for me. I have no control. Well, I do control my bladder and that is a good thing. I mean to give a wedgie to a dude in Depends who has just fudged himself is never any fun for anybody. Of course, like all things, it could be worse. Diarrhea is nobody's friend and is not a play thing. Man, I am grossing myself out here.

What do you call the act? The Aristocrats! Ciao!