A harrowing weekend. But not that harrowing.
Thursday night, after spending the day in the basement, Bun Bun and I slept in the basement. It was a bit musty, and, um, scared the shit out of me, because I’m basically a two year old, but infinitely preferable to being boiled alive upstairs. In the morning Mr. Bunny came down and encouraged us to come upstairs, and I shrieked NOOOOO! THE MOLE PEOPLE REFUSE TO RETURN TO THE LIGHT!
We spent the day there as well. I mainly used the time to contemplate the crying baby moral dilemma. (Short version: it’s wartime, you’re hiding in a basement with some others and your baby starts to cry. If the baby keeps crying the enemy will find you and kill you all, so you [ostensibly] have to choose between smothering the baby to keep it from crying, or all dying.) And to hope with every fiber of my being that we would not have a power outage. The freezer is stocked with precious, precious breastmilk, and boy would it would break my heart to have to pour it all down the drain. But in the evening we got a tremendous thunderstorm. Mr. Bunny and I dashed around the house opening every window and door as the blessed coolness swept through the house, returning it to a habitable place. The storm passed, and still the power held.
In the morning, I was in a celebratory mood after sleeping in my own bed, and requested some of Mr. Bunny’s fabulous cornmeal waffles. After making the noises of cooking for a while, he suddenly asked me to come downstairs in a tone that I know means SOMETHING IS WRONG. It seems that while we had not lost power, the freezer was not working properly. Not the fridge, mind you, just the god damned freezer, which was warmer than it should have been. Panic and buying lots of ice ensued, and the (still frozen) breastmilk was transferred to a cooler, which was then filled with as much ice as it would take, wrapped in a blanket, and placed in the coldest corner of the basement.
Then we had waffles, and they were DAMN good.
Then a man arrived to fix the fridge.
Then a man arrived to tell us that our water had just been shut off as they’d had to do some unexpected thingy with the ongoing water main repairs in our hood.
Although it was not fun, it certainly reminded me that I live a life of incomparable luxury. I don’t have to go to work today, so if I lose my stash of breastmilk, it’s actually not the end of the world. I have clean running water, most of the time. And most important, I don’t have to live in a basement, hiding from enemy soldiers.