Again?
It's a good thing I'm not one of those people who tremble whenever they hear thunder at a distance. If I had been, yesterday morning I would have had been found in the darkest, most enclosed corner of the house. My cat Macarena would not have been happy to have me invade her space.
At a little after seven thirty I woke to a white hot sizzle that flashed through the bathroom window and an immediate boom that sounded like a wrecking ball had smashed against the house. My husband and I flew downstairs. He switched off the mains while I screamed, "Unplug everything!" We surveyed the house and everything seemed okay, no blackened outlets, no smoke. We went back upstairs to bed, to await the end of the storm to check appliances. I don't want that alarm clock on a regular basis.
Unbeknownst to us, a few minutes later, our daughter was quickly traversing the streets of Santiago to get to the stop to await the bus home. As she dodged the raindrops without much success, she counted the intervals between lightning and thunder. Until there was no interval. At that point, she took shelter in a doorway, looking around to see where the bolt had fallen and wondering if she should wait for the next bus. When she saw a man walking along the street she decided to trust in fate, saying to herself, "If it's going to happen, it's going to happen." She caught the bus and the lightning didn't catch her.
Later, we turned the mains back on and checked different appliances. Everything seemed okay. We escaped without a scratch. And, luckily, this past week the electric company had decided to finally ground the post in front of our house that carries the cables with the electric supply. After thirty years or so standing there, they waited until now to ground it. And then electricity rates in Spain are the third highest in Europe. But the money doesn't go to infrastructure, obviously.
But when my father came over to eat at midday I discovered we weren't so lucky. When he turned on his television, it wouldn't react. He told me his television wouldn't turn on. Since he had in the past touched buttons on the remote that led him to different menus he didn't understand, I thought that was the situation yesterday. No. The television was gone. In the past seven years we have lost at least four televisions. This one from a lightning strike, another seven years ago from another lightning bolt, and two or three others from delicate mechanisms that didn't like us.
Televisions are no longer made to last. I remember a second-hand one we had when I was three years old. That television was in a cabinet of its own; necessary for all its machinery. It was black and white, with a screen so curved and bulging, I could almost see the images from my crib, parked right next to it. By the time we had it, it was twenty years old and still functioning. The ones we have now will never last as long, however many functions they have that were only dreams when the first televisions were made.
So, tomorrow I have to go shopping for yet another television. This morning the sun is smiling through breaking clouds. I only wish it would give us a check for a new television along with its smile.
At a little after seven thirty I woke to a white hot sizzle that flashed through the bathroom window and an immediate boom that sounded like a wrecking ball had smashed against the house. My husband and I flew downstairs. He switched off the mains while I screamed, "Unplug everything!" We surveyed the house and everything seemed okay, no blackened outlets, no smoke. We went back upstairs to bed, to await the end of the storm to check appliances. I don't want that alarm clock on a regular basis.
Unbeknownst to us, a few minutes later, our daughter was quickly traversing the streets of Santiago to get to the stop to await the bus home. As she dodged the raindrops without much success, she counted the intervals between lightning and thunder. Until there was no interval. At that point, she took shelter in a doorway, looking around to see where the bolt had fallen and wondering if she should wait for the next bus. When she saw a man walking along the street she decided to trust in fate, saying to herself, "If it's going to happen, it's going to happen." She caught the bus and the lightning didn't catch her.
Later, we turned the mains back on and checked different appliances. Everything seemed okay. We escaped without a scratch. And, luckily, this past week the electric company had decided to finally ground the post in front of our house that carries the cables with the electric supply. After thirty years or so standing there, they waited until now to ground it. And then electricity rates in Spain are the third highest in Europe. But the money doesn't go to infrastructure, obviously.
But when my father came over to eat at midday I discovered we weren't so lucky. When he turned on his television, it wouldn't react. He told me his television wouldn't turn on. Since he had in the past touched buttons on the remote that led him to different menus he didn't understand, I thought that was the situation yesterday. No. The television was gone. In the past seven years we have lost at least four televisions. This one from a lightning strike, another seven years ago from another lightning bolt, and two or three others from delicate mechanisms that didn't like us.
Televisions are no longer made to last. I remember a second-hand one we had when I was three years old. That television was in a cabinet of its own; necessary for all its machinery. It was black and white, with a screen so curved and bulging, I could almost see the images from my crib, parked right next to it. By the time we had it, it was twenty years old and still functioning. The ones we have now will never last as long, however many functions they have that were only dreams when the first televisions were made.
So, tomorrow I have to go shopping for yet another television. This morning the sun is smiling through breaking clouds. I only wish it would give us a check for a new television along with its smile.
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