A couple of nights ago we had a big storm here. Knocked out the power. Houses are now built to be as dependent as possible on external intervention. Instead of drainage, we have sumps. Instead of gravity, we have electric pumps. No power, no pump. Storm+basement+nopump = wading pool. By the time I woke up next morning, I had a lovely pond of mold-inducing clear water waiting for me. My phone woke me up by announcing that its battery was dead. Dead outlets = dead phone. No way to get information except neighbours' gossip. By the time I figured out I needed a portable generator because electromegacorp was dragging its feet, more enterprising souls had already grabbed the few rentables from all surrounding stores. After about the fiftieth trip up and down the stairs, ferrying a gallon of water at a time, I estimated I'd have to make at least fifteen hundred such trips. I collapsed.
No need to despair, though. Other crucial services continued uninterrupted throughout our pre-electric day, like say, postal service. The friendly little fake icecream truck passed by as usual, dropping off one single letter. I went out to grab it.
It was the electric bill.
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