I Hate it When That Happens

On Sunday evening, Doright Manor took a direct lightning strike, frying both of our television sets, along with our washing machine, and Studly Doright’s elliptical exercise machine. The blinding flash of lightning and the simultaneous explosion of a deafening clap of thunder didn’t do much for my blood pressure, either. 

We’d been in bed for only a few minutes when the strike came. Of course Studly was already snoring in that annoying way he has of dropping off to sleep the second his head hits the pillow, and true to form, I was reading. Our eldest cat, Scout, who is generally unperturbed by storms began meowing frantically just before the KABOOM! I should’ve known something big was about to happen.

Oddly enough we never lost electricity, but we are without television and Internet until service providers can make the trip out here. And if I want to do laundry before next Wednesday I’ll have to head to a laundromat. Strike that. I’ll GET to go to a laundromat. I’m awfully fond of them, you know. Best people watching in the world happens at laundromats.

Oh, about Studly’s elliptical machine…I’m lobbying to just chuck it. I kept thinking I’d write a post about the way its hulking presence in our den/kitchen area has marred the feng shui of my otherwise peaceful existence. Now it appears there was karmic redemption. Bwahaha!


Peace, people.

Author: nananoyz

I'm a semi-retired crazy person with one husband and two cats.

14 thoughts on “I Hate it When That Happens”

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