finding an outlet

As if to mock the situation, the lady from Wisconsin Energies used the electric doorbell before requesting to be led to the main power switches in the basement. My question regarding the functionality of telephones in a building without power was answered as she slid apartment four's switch into the locked "OFF" position. She replied that I'd need a wall phone in order to resolve the amount past due. I wondered if a wall phone could be made from my computer, which has a modem card. Many more brief contemplations such as these were to follow.

I passed by the silent refrigerator as I led the WE woman toward the door. Before sending her off to continue casting her small shadow over the city, I offered her a bite to eat from the stock of doomed perishables. The fridge's contents would keep for a day if the door was kept closed, she advised me. I'm sure I could have tapped into an extensive survival guide had I asked more questions. Much of it may have resembled that which is writ in the guide to Y2K I've preserved from five years ago.

The battery clock did not yet say three-thirty, so I'd need to wait until I could conduct the business of payment negotiation in the Brady Street Pharmacy, possibly with the use of my usual waitress' cellphone. To pass the time I could update my open source software's project site--no, no. I'd think of maybe scribbling down some lyrics, then of a song by a band in my record collection, then of making a mix tape for my girlfriend--ah, damn. The inspiration for these things were accompanied by a twitch, before resuming my slouched brooding on the sofa.

So, I guessed I'd have to spend the day on the town, despite my productive urges. Without a twitch, I considered that perhaps someone had left a message on the electric answering machine. Indeed they hadn't, but the machine's seven-segment display was glowing red! Lifting the the cordless receiver from the electric handset, a dialtone hummed expectantly into my ear. I flicked some light switches--nothing. I fiddled with the stereo--nothing. I opened the fridge and saw darkness. One mysterious outlet in the apartment had remained live.

An extension cord was soon extended from this outlet to the surge protector in the other corner of the room. The computer booted, and the LED indicators on the stereo began to shine. I stayed glued to my little electrified corner for the rest of the day. The lesson Wisconsin Energy was trying to teach had a loophole, and I was going to ride it for riding-it's sake. There is a mild rustic feeling in huddling around a single point of 60Hz wall current. But, when I think that WE's intent is punishment by making us rough it, spite is the sentiment.

The 700 dollar back dues have now been taken care of. In an hour or two the electric doorbell plugged into the surge protector should chime of the arrival of a WE representative who will put us back on the grid. We'll be done with the thirty-six hour novelty of flipping light switches fruitlessly, drinking instant coffee, and showering in the dark. I haven't yet decided whether to leave the functional outlet obvious to the WE representative, today. He or she may need to report the cross wiring in this antiquated house, in which case the loophole may be closed upon future power revocations. Still, I'd like to know the representative's reaction to a Shockwave Flash strobe light, loud punk rock music, Home Shopping Network on the tv, a smoking toaster, and a black light upon entering the living room of a home to which he or she has come to restore power.