Tuesday, August 2, 2011

I'm Late, I'm Late

     I procrastinated just a little too much.  When the time was right to write a clever little post, the power went out.  Pretty inexplicably actually.  Not all the power was.  Just some of it.  Plus, when the sun is up, it's harder to remember the power is out because we still have lights.  And then you  think that to make some time pass while staring at a blank screen, you'll cook something or get something from the fridge.  Oh.  No.  You can't do those things.  You can't even make coffee, which seems simple.  But it turns out we need power to do a whole bunch of things. 
     This reminds me of a story from a few years ago when I was working at a nuclear power plant.  I had gone out for drinks with my crew and they were trying to pick up girls.  One of them got into an elaborate discussion about the warrants of nuclear power.  He listed the pros and indeed even some of the cons, and discussed the pros and cons of other types of power generation.  From a few bar stools away, his argument seemed pretty sound.  She should have at least not been completely against nuclear power at that point.  But then she said something that gave us all pause:  "Why don't we just use electricity?"
     Yes, dumb girl, why indeed, don't we just use electricity?  My friend didn't keep talking to her, he has his standards.  We all walked away, shaking our heads, leaving her to be roofied by a guy without such standards.  She was completely serious, and this disquieted us.  Why not just use electricity?  Where to begin?
     Anyway, eventually the power came back up, and I was forced to stare at the blank screen for quite a while.  The blinking cursor is intimidating.  I was already late for my self-imposed deadline.  I was getting later.  Which means I needed a really good excuse for being late.  Which means I probably needed a fantastic post, to really knock your socks off, to make your wait worth while.  So that when you finished reading it, you were so satisfied, you could forgive the lateness.  Instead, however, I just kept thinking about the dumb girl at the bar and how she's probably a doctor by now.  Or a doctor's mistress.

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