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runswithscissors


Monday, October 08, 2007

This morning: awoke around 4 a.m., levered myself out of warm, comfy bed, made the long shuffle to the loo for a quick deposit. Turned on the bathroom's overhead light, heard a loud pop, saw the light come briefly on then go dark. Stared blearily up at it, some part of my teeny, sleepy brain absorbed the unfortunate shift in reality, finally coming out with the mental equivalent of, "Oh." After which I noticed the rest of the flat was not only dark, it was silent. No refrigerator running, no nothing. Flicked the switch for the hallway light. Darkness Hit the switch for the overhead light in the kitchen. More darkness. Slowly swung into what, at 4 a.m., passes for action.

Located the breaker box, buried behind dishes in a kitchen cabinet. Carefully pulled out dishes, stacked them on counter. Pulled open breaker box: sure enough, the main breaker was off. Clicked it on, checked lights. Hallway light produced wonderful, joy-inducing illumination. Refrigerator began running. (I tripped it to keep it from getting too far.) Brief half-awake jubilation. Then tried kitchen light: nothing doing. Tried bathroom lights: nothing doing. Half-awake mumbling of foul words.

Returned to kitchen cabinet, stared in at breaker box -- the switches stared back, all in the ON position. I checked each one by hand, pushing them firmly up, all seemed to be solidly where they should be. Tried kitchen light. Tried bathroom lights. Nothing. Found replacements for two of the three bulbs in the bog, flicked the switch with tentative hope. Further nothing. Gave up for the night, shuffled back to bed -- pausing long enough to turn on laptop and send an email to sainted landlords, informing them of the sitch, asking for suggestions. Turned on bedside light (smirking at the small victory of a working lamp in the face of the universe's attempt to leave me totally screwed), read until teeny brain had calmed down and drowsiness loomed, stuffed earplugs into ears in anticipation weekday morning street noise, drifted off to lovely sleep.

Woke up at a far more reasonable hour, the world outside slowly gearing up for a Monday. Pulled out earplugs, found myself being serenaded by a backhoe-mounted jackhammer down in the street, part of the soundtrack for the ongoing rebuilding of Madrid, crews working their way through the barrio's narrow calles, ripping up asphalt, replacing it with brick. Pretty when done, loud, dusty and not much fun before then.



Apart from the rainfall that greeted me when I arrived last Wednesday a.m., the days here have been like a return to summer -- warm, flooded with sunshine, as close to perfect as one could ask. The kind of conditions that bring everyone outside. In this barrio, that means night-long partying on the weekends, waves of noise coming and going until dawn when the celebrating gives way to the sound of city cleaning crews sweeping up overabundant refuse and hosing down streets. Just part of the cycle of life. Last night, being Sunday, was much more tranquil, much more suited to a good, long stretch of shuteye. At lest it is when I finally fall into bed -- I tend to fall into the local rhythms automatically once here, so even if I'm not out wading through the city's nightlife, I'm up late online, watching the tube, reading.

Part of daily reading includes the morning El Pais, me attempting to be selective about the parts of the paper I spend time on. Less political hooha, less world news ugliness, more sports, arts, etc. The idea being the cultivation of something that might pass as mental health. Or a teeny bit of inner peace. (States not generally promoted by catching up on the goofy doings of politicians and the folks currently the subject of gossip and celeb blather.) Which means paying minimal attention to the ongoing hyperaggressive ravings of el Partido Popular (the party tossed out of power in the wake of the Madrid bombings in March, 2004), minimal attention to the toxic political grandstanding and maneuvering that has become the norm here and in the States, etc. Which does leave me feeling a bit lighter as I stumble through my day.

And speaking of lighter: sainted landlords responded to my email with a suggestion to actually turn the various breaker switches on and off a few times. I did (as opposed to my half-awake, early-hour prodding, poking, pushing), it did the trick, immediately turning darkened corners of the flat much, er, lighter. When I skipped out the door to enjoy the spectacular weather, I left behind a fully functional living space.

I do love a happy ending.


Espaņa, te quiero.

rws 8:16 AM [+]
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BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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runswithscissors would like to thank everyone who's ever lived for everything they've ever done.



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