One of the hazards of living in an apartment building, where you share resources with others, is that stuff sometimes gets cut off. Earlier this week, it was the water at the kitchen sink, because a shared pipe had to be replaced.
Last night (of course during a video game I hadn’t saved up to that point) the power went out. One quick fweeeoooom and then it was all dark as, well, night.
After the grr-I-was-playing-that groan, I waited for a couple of minutes but the power didn’t come back on. Then I took it as a sign I should call it a night, have a supper and get to bed.
It may or may not come as a surprise that I constantly feel the need to occupy my mind with something… if I can’t read or listen to music, the degree of rambling that goes on between my two neurons surpasses even the one noticeable in this here blog. And since 90% of the time I eat alone, there’s usually a book to keep me company.
I went therefore in search of light (doesn’t that sound like a quest?). I had thus the occasion to find a number of depleted batteries and a few broken torches. (I find that one rarely realizes how much junk one owns until the moment something useful is needed but barely found.)
Having finally found a working torch and pair of batteries, I realized I’d need the light to be at least slightly elevated if any reading was to take place (and putting stuff on bread using only one hand is also one of the skills I lack as yet). Then I remembered my scented candle I bought about 7 (yes seven) years ago but never used… and managed to fish out a box of matches.
Then I had a romantic dinner in the company of the charming Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Who says romance is dead?
