Jeneration X: One Reluctant Adult's Attempt to Unarrest Her Arrested Development; Or, Why It's Never by Lancaster, Jen (e books free to read .txt) 📕

with a small burst of rain at some point before my alarm sounds. I knew a storm was looming because Loki woke me up earlier when he tried to wedge himself underneath my pillow. Then the other two dogs followed suit, burrowing under the covers with us and immediately inflating to twice their size. Squeezed out, I left to sleep with the cats in the adjoining bedroom.

When I entered the cats’ camp, Odin glanced up at me with his one good eye to confirm that I wasn’t “scary monster.” Odin’s partially blind and generally thinks everyone’s a monster because he can’t quite see them. I’m the only person from whom he doesn’t hide. [He likes Fletch but Fletch is tall, which, often in Odin’s world, equals monster.] I have friends who visit weekly and have never met him.

Satisfied that I’m on the buddy list, Odin stretched out so that I could rub his tummy. Then as I lay down, Chuck Norris and Gus wrapped themselves around either side of my head. Their purring immediately put me back to sleep.

I’m kind of amazed with what we’ve accomplished with these cats. When Gina, Fletch, and I rounded them up two years ago, we were sure they’d always be feral, that is, if they even survived. Our contingency plan was to neuter and release them because the vet worried they’d never adjust to living with humans. But for the cost of a whole-house generator, two eye surgeries, and a couple of weeks in the kitty ICU, the vets made them healthy. Then we spent a few more weeks waking up in the middle of the night to administer medicines and months socializing them. And now? Not only was Odin able to keep his eye, but all the cats are so social they aren’t happy unless they’re touching one of us. Not long ago I was watching TV upstairs—Fletch came in and laughed when he spotted the three of them draped around my shoulders like a mink stole. I smiled and said, “Who’s feral now, bitch?”

When we lost the last of our old cats earlier this year, [RIP, you dirty old man and you cranky old lady. You are loved and missed.] the Thundercats were a real comfort. They seemed to understand how affectionate Jordan and Tucker were, and they’ve since stepped up their games. Odin’s big move is to sit on my lap while I’m using the bathroom and Chuck likes to press his face against the glass while I shower.

I appreciate the effort, but they need to work on their execution.

The cats and I are resting amicably, waiting for the alarm to buzz. Drops tap against the window and there’s some moderate thunder and lightning but in terms of storms, this is one of those relaxing ones that make me snuggle deeper into bed.

Then there’s a huge pop and we lose power again. Using my skin for traction, the cats dig in and take off.

Argh! How are the lights off again? We just lost them three weeks ago! This is ridiculous!

ComEd was all over the news last time, gloating about having rebuilt the grid so efficiently. I kind of assumed said grid might last a little longer, but perhaps they rebuilt everything with balsa wood and tissue paper.

This is so frustrating. Just because I’m working on being better at living in the moment doesn’t mean I want to experience the same damn moment so soon after last time.

Regardless, that’s when our generator kicks in so it’s all fine.

Ha! What I mean is, that’s when our generator would have kicked in if Fletch and I weren’t so deep in our analysis paralysis that we’ve yet to make a decision.

We talk about generators so much that the word “generator” is almost nonsensical now. Generator. Generator. Generator. Say it enough times in a row and it sounds exactly like the noise made from trying to start a recalcitrant… generator. Generator. Generator.

Our kitchen table’s stacked with brochures and promotional DVDs and we’ve got a whole cost-benefit analysis charted out. By now we’re probably both qualified to sell generators. Personally, I favor the Generac 1.6L Engine, naturally cooled, gas aspirated model… mostly because their Web site is interactive and you can click on different parts of the graphic to see stuff ignite. [I very much enjoy clicking the electric stove button to see the oven get all fiery.] Fletch is still undecided and I have to keep an eye on his research because he keeps meandering into survivalist message boards. I fear Herd_Thinner666 and Profit O’ Doom are not the best influences.

Point is I’ve gotten Fletch on board with the idea and our goal’s to have one installed before the weather turns. Granted, we’re buying a generator in lieu of taking a vacation, but when it’s zero degrees and the snow’s up to the garage roof and I’m not, you know, freezing to death à la The Shining, I’ll be glad I didn’t get to go to the Hamptons this year. [At least that’s what I’m telling myself.]

Anyway, confident that a long-term solution’s in the works, I go back to sleep.

When I wake up an hour later, the sun’s already out and I’m covered in a blanket of cats. For a second I wonder if I dreamed the whole thing but then I see the blank display on the digital clock and confirm it really happened.

I have a number of boring tasks on my to-do list today, but since they all require electricity, I’ve given myself a get-out-of-jail-free pass. Hot-weather snow day at my house, yay! I have a leisurely breakfast while listening to the radio, where I learn that more than one hundred thousand Chicago residents are in the dark. Whoa! For a storm that lasted maybe fifteen minutes start to finish? Really? I can pee harder than it was raining. I don’t understand what went wrong.

After the last outage, I’m super-meticulous about putting my electronics on the charger, so I’ve plenty of battery life and