Day 48: Quiet and Dark

I moved to a second location in Savannah and will be staying here through Yule. It is at the end of a very long driveway, with lots of trees and peacefulness. Susan is the hostess with the mostest. Apparently Snow Birds began coming down earlier and earlier the past two years, so now there’s not a spot to be had in any Florida state park. Blessed be the boondockers group to which I belong … and got me here. She’s been helping me find other places to stay. If every request I made is approved, I’m more or less set through January 9. I’m splurging and booked a week at a Georgia campground (got the last spot) for $246. (I can get mail there, so contact me if you want the address.)
As I got to that sentence, it was clear I had a power problem. Everything went dark and silent. Seems when I plugged in upon arrival, everything worked because it was running off my batteries … until I used them up. Turns out the outlet I was plugged into had tripped, so I wasn’t getting shore power. However, at the time, I didn’t know that. I dug up my manual and called Go Power!, makers of my inverter/converter/batteries chosen by my builder. I highly recommend them because when I call for tech support in California, Bob answers. This is the second time he’s been freaking awesome at understanding what I am trying to say and explaining to me what to do about it. Thank you Bob, for true customer support.
I have a book review and a column yet to write for PaganPages.org, and some items to gather together to assist with reiki (gems, water, a bowl, the diffuser …) tomorrow at Cosmic Corner.
After that panic, I’m letting solid darkness be a choice, not a problem; I didn’t turn anything back on, so the only light at the moment is coming from the four small green lights on my power system, the red light on my small quartz heater (I send you blessings every time I turn it on, PJ.) and my dimmed computer screen.
I can hear my mother over my shoulder say, “That’s bad for your eyes. Turn on a light.”
I haven’t heard that in decades.
“Hi mom. I miss you … just like my daughter misses me.”