Friday, July 8, 2011

Props To Farmer H

We had a little storm blow through Hillmomba last night. There we were, The Pony and I, blissfully absorbed in Wipeout, when our power flickered. It flickered, it flackered, it surged up and down like ambient lighting controlled by a toddler twisting a round dimmer switch.

Then it went off for good.

Or for bad, as I see it, what with the season premiere of Big Brother 13 due to air a scant 30 minutes later. I reviewed my recent karma withdrawals and deposits, and came to the conclusion that Even Steven was going to owe me big on this one.

Farmer H sat mute in his La-Z-Boy upstairs. He had some greenish light filtering in through the shades. The Pony and I grabbed the tiny metal flashlights we keep within reach for just such emergencies in the basement. We turned on the weather radio, which provided us with some twangin' old-style country music. After ten minutes, I gave up hope of regaining power before my show.

Then I had the most scathingly brilliant idea. I hollered up to Farmer H, "Hey, why do we have a generator, anyway?" He hmpfed a bit, then muttered, then cranked his La-Z-Boy to the upright position. From there, he headed to the garage to turn on Gennie. I went upstairs to the only working house phone, the one on the kitchen wall with giant numbers that sometimes work and sometimes don't, and called Ameren Missouri. That's the good part about Am Mo. They have an automated number to report outages that tells you how many customers are floundering in your same boat, and when power should be restored. Ten p.m. was too late for my Big Brother. Lucky for me that Farmer H was on the case. I bet those other 859 customers wished they had a Farmer H right about then.

I began to worry. It takes about ten minutes for my Dish Network to come back after such a catastrophic shut-down. It has to acquire satellite signal, then load that confounded program guide for America's Top 150, and then maybe I'll get a picture. Apparently, Farmer H had lost his charm with Gennie. She was not responding. I sounded like he was choking her. Even after he jumped her, she wouldn't put out.

Turns out that he forgot to shut off the main power switch. We can only run selected appliances with Gennie's compliance. The air conditioner and stove not being two of them. Good thing I was in no mood to cook. I selected to run my big-screen TV and satellite dish. Who needs lights? Not me or The Pony. Farmer H made sure that Frig was humming, and that the well was pumping as needed. Then he took off to town. Because while he believes in being prepared for power outages by housing his kept woman, Gennie, in the garage year-round, he does not believe in providing her with sustenance.

It didn't help matters that four inches of rain were dumped on Hillmomba in an hour's worth of thunderstorm. Farmer H had to detour over the right bridges to reach civilization. Meanwhile, I had temporary power. WooHoo! I only missed the first five minutes of Big Brother, the part where Julie Chen explained the new rules for Season 13. And I held my breath until Farmer H returned at 8:50. Not actually, because I would have passed out and missed my show. But figuratively, because I feared that Gennie would gobble up her meager petroleum provisions and leave me in the dark again.

Sooo...I suppose Steven Evened things out, because I got to watch my Big Brother. The power did not return at 10:00, but at 11:30, at which time I woke Farmer H to suffocate Gennie. I threw the main power switch, and we had air conditioning and hot water again for for the morning routine.

Props to Farmer H for his electrifying performance in the face of adversity.


Kathy's Klothesline said...

Kudos to Farmer H!

Hillbilly Mom said...

Yes, electricity is one thing he's a wizard with.

Jennifer said...

I was in Springfield and witnessed some crazy wicked lightning and rain.

But what was weird is that here east of Joplin we got nothing. I apparently drove right behind the storm the whole time.

Hillbilly Mom said...

My mom lives about 15 miles from us, and she got nothing. Barely even a raindrop. Yet our creeks were overflowing.