I Don't Belong Here.

a humor blog from the trenches of suburbia.

An explosion woke us up this morning around 8:30. Melinda rolled over and said “what was that?” thinking it was a gunshot.

“Sounded like a dumpster closing or something,” I mumbled. “Definitely not a gunshot.”

The noise must have been a power transformer on the street, because the power was out when I rolled over to check the time. The power ended up staying out until almost 1 o’clock.

Power outages aren’t really an inconvenience to me. In a way, it’s almost an exciting event, like a snow day off of work. I like the way it makes me re-route my thinking, change my routine in a way that somehow feels manly and healthy. For three hours, I am a pioneer on the plains, forced to entertain myself without the help of electronic devices. Or, at least the electronic devices plugged into the wall, which means I spent most of the morning writing on my battery-powered iPad and blocking out the kids’ screams with my rechargeable noise-cancelling headphones.

The biggest hurdle came when Min and I had forage for coffee, which meant I had to drive a mile and a half to Starbucks. It was tough, but I just imagined what it was like for Lewis and Clark, fording impassable rivers and scaling craggy ravines to get their salted caramel lattes, and it made me feel better.

Honestly, I’m not a huge Starbucks disciple. I used to drink it every day when I worked at Guitar Center, but it’s one of those habits that really add up after awhile and make you feel guilty once you realize you’re spending $120 a month on coffee. After all, there are children drinking Folgers in Africa.

It would have been easier for me to get coffee from the 7-Eleven across the street, but if I’m being honest, their coffee is dreadful. It might not be continental breakfast bad or auto dealership bad, but it’s not something I’d be proud about drinking. They’ve got these timers on their carafes that are supposed to make you feel better about how fresh the coffee is, but to this day I’m not sure whether the timers count up or down, and I can’t tell whether the coffee from the 00:05 carafe is freshly brewed or five minutes from being labeled an environmental hazard. In my opinion, the timer really skews your enjoyment of the brew.

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