My new nickname is official….

Base housing had another scheduled power outage in housing. By ‘scheduled’ I mean they send you an email and tell you the power outage is from 0800-0900 and then at 1300 everything in your house shuts down.

There I am, playing around on my $2,000 iMac, when all of a sudden I hear a pop and a faint burning smell.

Rage burns through me.

I immediately call the housing office and they inform me that they were notified last-minute (read: we forgot to tell the residents that the plan changed and we don’t want you to scream at us like a psycho) and sent out an email saying that the power outage would continue later in the day. Unfortunately I received no email, neither did the four neighbors I asked. The housing office tells me the power may cycle on and off and that we need to unplug our electronics to avoid killing them.

The award for late advice goes to Office Lady.

The fun begins and I start walking around the house and unplugging everything. I reach for the surge protector that the computer is plugged into and, as I touch it, sparks fly out of the socket and shock the shit out of me. Power cycled back on at the wrong moment.

Office Lady is no longer even remotely liked.

I call my dad for help – he’s my electricity guru. My dad runs through the procedure for turning the electronics off at the breaker panel to avoid any rogue problems… like shocking yourself. I tell him how I just learned that lesson the hard way and got shocked. He starts to ask questions about what happened and tells me to have someone come over and watch me (I still had a daycare kid in the house) and I should get to an ER or call 911.

Something needed to happen quickly.

I desperately try to locate the Hubster who is lost on a submarine that I have no phone numbers for.  No friends are available to deliver me to the ER. As I’m wondering how panicked I should be, my mother calls me. She’s a nurse in an emergency room and my father called her. She orders me to an ER immediately or she is calling 911 and sending them to me. Sweating, rapid heart beat and arm tingles were apparently a terrible sign.

The moment she threatened to get on a plane I knew I was in trouble.

The Hubster was located and kicked off the boat and he arrives home to start a lecture that ran the entire trip to the ER. Circuit breakers, electric panels, outlet safety… blah, blah, blah. Apparently, I’m now going to be subjected to some Navy safety course about electric shocks. I bet it’s a PowerPoint.

As I went to plug my phone into the car outlet for a quick pre-hospital charge, Hubster looks at me and says, ‘What are you doing, Sparky? You’re no longer allowed near plugs. And I hope I get to watch them hook a defibrillator up to you, that’ll make it worth losing so much time at work.’

I love that man.

P.S. I’m fine, I had an EKG and it was normal. See, one area where I’m normal! Though I do have to rest for 24-48 hours due to my freakishly high blood pressure and racing heart beat. I told the doctor, ‘I’m chubby, own an English Bulldog and have an iPad and Apple TV. Sitting on the couch is my forte.’

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