Storm fun

©2022 Michael Raven

It’s not how I wanted to begin my coveted alone time.

It started off right: kids gone, casual writing, but tired, so I didn’t go hardcore. Reasonable bed time, nary a worry on my mind.

I woke around 12.30am to lights in strobe. Awesome, I thought, rolling over. Another ambulance driver who doesn’t know how to turn off his emergency lights when he gets to The House.

If only.

In my sleep addled mind, I had another emergency visit across the street to explain the flashing lights which really were very much like a strobe light. The house across the street is assisted living for some of the strangest collections of folks over the years, and not in a good way. Before the current operator took over, the house was losing on average a resident every quarter or quicker. It is notable that the rumor about the house is that they lost their license to operate because too many deaths occurred (the assumption is neglect and last-stages of chronic illness, not anything more nefarious). Since the home went from being an actual residence (low income rental, and I have other stories about those folks), I would say that there is an ambulance at least once a week. Most of the EMTs realize that there is no need for emergency lights in a driveway and they shut them off on arrival. Every once in a while, though, they don’t care or forget and our night sky is lit up like a Christmas tree for upwards of an hour.

But this time, no, it was a storm-front moving through. When I woke up enough to realize that, I was typical Minnesotan and all oh jeeze, I hope the electricity doesn’t go out. As if the gods decided they heard me requesting such a thing and entirely on cue, the fan in my room stopped.

I honestly should have the “report an outage” saved on my mobile browser. It’s not as bad as when I first moved here, but it is still frequent enough that I wonder just why we seem to be prone to power outages.

Well, as you can expect, we weren’t the only suburban block without power after the storm rolled through. It took until around 3pm before power was restored. Annoyingly, across the street, they had electricity. They always do for whatever reason.

I don’t sleep without electricity. While my large build might have been ideal for an American footballer playing linebacker (thick neck, broad shoulders), it also happens to be the cause of my sleep apnea. I need electricity to breathe now that I’ve gotten used to having the extra air (although, since losing 60 lbs, I need it less so). No CPAP, no restful sleep.

I was going to work today prior to taking time to be alone. I hadn’t intended on not being able to work and not sleeping and not having my PC to write music or fiction on. So, I get to go to work tomorrow to make up for the things I didn’t get done today instead of starting a stay-cation in earnest.

No electricity means no coffee for caffeine-addicted me — so… headache city. “Why not go and drive and get some?” Well, funny you should mention that… I couldn’t get into my garage because of the power and the blocked side door because of (I’m not going to get into it) an unwanted table saw that was forced on me and taking up space I could use to leave to use the side door. It also means I couldn’t get the petro-fueled generator out to keep food frozen and cold. Thankfully, the freezer was stocked up and nothing even began to melt because of the meat-cicles inside.

It’s not been what I would call the great-get-away today. In fact, I think the bed is calling my name and it is only 9pm. Goodnight. And storms… stay away tonight. Please?

4 thoughts on “Storm fun

      1. Your description of the house reminds me of the infamous Dorothy Puente boarding house which I see every week. There’s a sign on the gate that says “It was that awful, awful woman that did it! Don’t blame me! -the House”
        Your story mixed with that sign makes me want to blame the house. What could make a house attract bad? Doesn’t it seem there’s one house in every neighborhood that is simply like that?

        Liked by 1 person

        1. I think it has to do with someone deciding to turn it into a rental home. And then, when folks couldn’t “rake in the dough” and they started renting to less savory characters to make ends meet (rather than leave it empty).

          Then they sold it to some guy who specializes renting to medical care groups. I think HE sold it to a group who now runs it (they act like they own it).

          But we’ve had some doozies residing there in (including the guy hanging out the window screaming he was being held there as a prisoner against his will and the cops talking to the the folks running the show as he did so — this was well before the current owners).


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