I don't think anything is going to happen to LJ. I mean, it *could*. But I don't think it will. I'm optimistic like that.

( But, come the Russiapocalypse )

Shoot. I meant to be getting into bed by now. Still so much to do... We're hitting the gym hard tomorrow, and I have a post office run pending, and I wanted to send out the Ophelia story again.... There's never enough time. And ConFusion is coming up!

Also... anyone need a roommate for Anticipation? I'm not committing to anything just yet since I haven't fully decided to go, but consider this me putting out feelers. Also, I think I'm going to drive in from Michigan. Ten hours is no biggie in summer, and I want to see some of Canada.

The power went out at 3:59.

"Crap," I said. "It's an hour to sunset. What then?"

My husband decided avoid this question by taking a nap.

I decided to clean kerosene lamps, shower while the water was still hot and there was enough light coming into the bathroom to shower by, dig out candles, and see if I could light the oven without power. (Answer: no, but I didn't try very hard. Stove, yes, however. Verdict: pilotless gas range is annoying in a power outage.)

As I was fiddling with the lamp next to the bed, my husband muttered, "THIS is the thing you're the ant about."

I read until sunlight failed me, and listened to audio books as long as I could stand staring at nothing while doing so. In other words, I filled about ten of the remaining twenty minutes of daylight.

I crawled into bed next to my husband at 5:00. "I'm bored, so you get me."

Heavy sighs from him and the cats I displaced.

At 5:03 the power came back on. "Seven minutes 'til sunset!" Dann said.

I bounced out of bed. "My life has meaning again!"

~fin~

Today at work Suzanne and I went downstairs to our new annex (room 17) to talk to the electrician about outlet placement and some schmancy kind of conduit.

The Door was open.

There are three doors in Room 17--the main, double door from the hallway, the unpassable back door that opens onto shelves in the MonoCat room, and the Sekrit Door, the Locked Door. The door that opens onto a cement staircase overhung with pipes and pipes and pipes, that leads to a brick room with a layer of rust dust a centimeter thick, or so it seems.

We went down the stairs.

Into the steam tunnels.

It was awesome.

The electrician came down. "You guys going to Angell Hall?" he asked.

"Not today," we said regretfully.

I told Ralph--and my boss--, "It's how we can escape the zombie hordes when they show up."

Ralph said, "Won't the zombie hordes be IN the steam tunnels?"

"No, the doors are kept locked," I said gravely. "Zombies can't pick locks. But we can."

They didn't look like they believed me, but trust me. Someday they'll be grateful that I think of these things.