Six or seven bouts of load-shedding (power outages) per day means that in the six hours between getting home from school and going to bed, three of them are spent in the dark. And the heaters are . . . electric, yes. Not that it matters--tiny electrical heaters don't do much in a concrete apartment with no insulation. (Thank god S. finally taped trashbags over the 2-inch gap between the bathroom fan and the exterior wall.) Unless of course I want to lock myself in my room to keep the heat in a smallish-space. I should be grateful to have electricity and water at all, since so many in PK do not, but frankly I'm not feeling grateful, so there.
In related news, Roomie and I are grateful that we can leave the apartment. The key kept getting stuck and not turning, and there's only one lock for deadbolt and door-opening. That continued off and on for a day until we were worried about Roomie getting to work and Mama and Papa Pidgeon making their flight the next morning. Sure enough, School Driver Sahib was at our door before dawn prying the thing open with a hammer and screwdriver so Roomie could join the rest of the faculty waiting in the van. (Some people came tonight to change the lock.)
"It's like this all the time," I told Papa Pidgeon. The door? No, life. At least now I know we can get out of the house if one of us knocks a candle over during a power out. Small miracles.
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