Let's see: No blinding flash of pain and the internal combustion engine still worked.

That meant the latest power outage in The Price Neighborhood (a/k/a The Place Where Nobody DTE Energy Has To Worry About Enraging Lives) wasn't The Change.

That, and the hot water heater and phones still work (SBC put up a generator on the line to keep the latter working). That's the inventory of good news.

No electricity since 6:00pm Sunday, and no guarantee of when it will be fixed. That means no lights and no heat. Yes, Heather has an arsenal of candles that would put a Latino Saint's shrine to shame, but there's only so much patchouli vapor a human being can inhale without being overpowered by the urge to vote for Dennis Kucinich.

Even--especially--when the only thing on the ballot is a millage proposal, as it is in our case today.

We moved into a hotel yesterday before sundown. As in: crammed into 350 square feet with a now-walking infant, a giddy toddler and a slightly whiny pre-schooler. Yep, a little slice of pickled souse loaf. We have no idea when we'll be back.

Vaya con Dios.