Letters to Holly

Thursday, November 20

Hey, Get This: I'm Old.

With Your Sis off to Ra-Ra for the workshop, I busied myself with bachelor junk.

But first I called Duke Power to ask about the street light on our property. When we moved to the house, we learned the light was on the account of a house down the road. Our house's previous owners didn't control the light, and we gave the other house a check for $25 every August. The light has sporadic service: it hasn't run every night for months. And now it's out. I discovered that the house we gave the checks to is now empty; the family moved some months back. I thought the dark light meant the light was deactivated. Duke Power told me instead that it's controlled by the new owner of that house, and the light is supposed to be on. It might have burned out.

My secondary question was about us taking over the light account. It's on our property. I have to mow around it. It breaks up an otherwise nice stretch of flat land along the street. Why isn't the house on our account? I can only guess that the house's original owners wouldn't pony up the dough. When I rented a house back home, I took over that property's street light, and the payment was broken up throughout the year's bills. It couldn't have been more than an additional $10 a month, if that. I was told the light can't be transfered without the permission of the current account holder. But they won't say who that is. The other house stands empty. I don't know how to contact the landlord. I can only wait until the house has new occupants and ask them if we can take over the light.

The thrills of homeownership. This wouldn't be so worrisome if we didn't live far enough from the city to have utter darkness when the sun sets.

With that done, I cooked the first of the Little Caesar home-backed pizzas. It was a disappointment. It smelled just like a fanchise-made pie and tasted like one from a school cafeteria. I drowned my sorrows in videogames before watching a Country Music Television concert matching the current Britney with Def Leppard. There's no way to avoid the presentation of my favorite rock band: They were a nostalgia act. The new girl was raving about them, saying her mom loved them and listened to them when the kid was an even younger kid. She's younger than their biggest CD, Hysteria, by a few years. They sang her songs, she sang their songs, and I felt like a geezer. But I sang along to the TV and probably terrified the neighbors who thought drunken, tone-deaf hobos had settled down on our night-shrouded road.

I sketched out a comic page to hang in the hallway while talking to Your Sis. I could hear her fall asleep. I ran my lines in the shower and during my commute. I've turned that corner where I have my lines and the anxiety decreases by 80 percent. I'm actually looking forward to the rehearsal tonight.

Picture of the Day
The show comes back January 21. Just two months away.

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