Ice Ice Baby

Word to myself—don’t drink four huge cups of iced tea two hours before bed time again.

We were hit by the rolling blackouts three times yesterday, once in the afternoon, once from 5:45 to 6:45 and again from 8:20 to 9:20. During the middle one we went to a neighborhood restaurant, prepared to stay a while where it was cool. The Red Sox game vs. Toronto was on the television (Sox lost), we brought things to read, and periodically called the house to see if we answered (shades of “Shatterday”—our answering machine comes back on automatically with the power, so if we answer, there’s power).

I knew, I just knew, that we wouldn’t make it through Lost without losing power, so I planned in advance and asked someone to tape it for me. I was able to watch last week’s episode in its entirety, of course, but twenty minutes into the new episode: blackness. One thing I don’t like about our television: if the power goes off, you can’t turn it off, so when the power comes back on, so does the television. I could unplug it, of course, but the plug is not exactly in a convenient location.

We read by candlelight for a while, then I gave up and went to bed. Of course, all the iced tea I’d consumed during supper did me absolutely no good in that regard. I don’t drink coffee, so I don’t have the experience of using caffeine as a stimulant. I drink hot tea, but it never has that effect on me. This iced tea, though, had me wired and I don’t know that I got more than an hour at a time of uninterrupted sleep.

Didn’t put me in a good state of mind for writing at 5:15 this morning. All I managed was a book review for Accent.

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