Enemalta!

Apologies for not having blogged just one entry yesterday. It's wasn't my fault, but Enemalta's. Enemalta people seem to be pretty brazen, they issue massive bills then they don't even live up to their reputation I could have cried yesterday, just when I was on the topmost floor I was swallowed up in darkness. And I think it must have been a very hungry darkness. So there I was with two big dogs, in pitch black, and making my way gingerly through two storeys. I think it could have been fatal, now I know how it feels to be blind, and it's just not very nice. Somehow I made it downstairs only to find out that the only candles were upstairs, so up I went again. Power-cutting is all black for me, I even get a black mood to go with it. Some people say it's cosy. Cosy is sleeping under my duvet by choice. Cosy is not staring into the dark sitting at the kitchen table and smoking because there's nothing else to do. Because then cosy takes a metamorphosis of its own, that is, cosy and cursing. I don't care if Enemalta have a fault, they shouldn't have a fault. I don't pay for faults, sorry. So the picture was very dark, with one candle and me trying to read articles off The Sunday Circle magazine. Real shit. And then I had a cruel brainwave, since there was nothing else to do, nobody to talk to, I'd cook! And so I did, and hated it from the very first minute. Bad bad idea. I don't even cook in broad daylight, let alone in pitch darkness. But somehow the cooking made me feel sleepy, and so I was switching off the candle, when bang, the house is like a heavily-lit Christmas tree. Grrr. And I had a choice, to swear or not to swear. And I didn't but sighed instead.