It is Saturday morning, the long-awaited sixteenth of August. I groggily hear the all-too-familiar sound of my phone ringing... Ah, alarm. That means wake up. Yugh, can it be 6:30 already? I look at the clock. Indeed, it can. Maybe staying up until 1:30 wasn't such a bright idea. But I had to finish packing... which meant cleaning all my laundry. And I had to watch the Olympics, of course. Which meant staying up later than I usually do. And... then waking up feeling a bit more tired than I should like. Oh, sigh. I turned off the alarm and considered getting up and getting ready. But the bed was comfy -- the kind of comfy that never happens when you're actually allowed to be sleeping, and inconveniently presents itself only at the times when it is definitely not acceptable to stay in bed. So... I cuddled up in the blankets, enjoying another five minutes of happy sleepiness, while managing not to fall back asleep. I was much too excited to fall back asleep.
I eventually climbed out of bed and got ready for my flight, which really only took about half-an-hour... I had done most of the time-consuming preparations the night before. And soon I was ready. I kissed the members of my family who were too tired to get up to see me off and hugged them as best as I could while they lay groggily in their beds.
Mother (as I like to pronounce it, moe-thur) and one of my sisters helped me load my two suitcases into the car, and we drove off. The ride seemed so long. And then we got to the airport. Mom tried to get my luggage out, but she was unable. I grabbed my two fairly heavy red bags, my horribly scarred and sunburnt backpack, and my laptop bag. And I waved goodbye to my mother and sister, and I turned to the airport behind me. Goodbye Phoenix.
I checked in my suitcases and made it through security with ease. I got this airport thing down. And, I was among the first of the passengers from my flight to show up in the terminal, so I had a fairly decent choice of seats. All is well. I had about an hour until I'd be allowed to board the airplane, so I pulled out my pen and paper and wrote letters to missionary buddies. The hour passed by as quickly as my thoughts would allow it to -- excitement sometimes makes time last longer. Writing usually makes it go by abnormally fast. So, it balanced out. Before I knew it, I was on the plane sitting in an aisle seat next to a middle-aged couple who both entertained themselves with books. And about a hour and a half later, the plane landed, and I was off to reclaim my red suitcases.
Grandma Salisbury picked up my bags and I, we went and filled our empty stomachs with Chinese food, and we visited my great-aunt Alice. Then it was off to Provo. For real.
I remember during that last ride when I finally saw the Y again. It made me happy.
And then soon the streets started to look familiar.
And then...
"That's my apartment!" I happily leaped out of the car, dashed behind the red brick building where I lived, and made my way to the office where I gratefully commandeered my key for apartment #366. I was the first one to check in for my apartment.
I burst out of the office and made a beeline for the back of the red brick building. They had replaced the back doors last spring term, and they didn't have numbers on them anymore. But ha! I used to live here! I know which door is mine, even if they do look all the same. I triumphantly opened the third door on the left and entered the familiar kitchen.
Wait a minute.
My kitchen was full of random pieces of furniture. Mattresses, book shelves, and other thingamabobs that definitely weren't here last time I lived here. Interesting. I also picked up on the fact that... the refrigerator and freezer doors were open. I inspected it. The refrigerator wasn't on, so it didn't really matter that the doors were open. I closed them. I looked over at my oven. Usually there was a time on the the display. The display was black, blank, and lifeless. I looked over at the where the time on the microwave should be. Same thing. Black, blank, and lifeless. I flipped the switch for the kitchen on and off -- nothing.
My suspicions were confirmed -- we have no electricity. Aw, darn it!
I ran the faucet. The water was warm enough, so we had hot water. That was nice. I'd been paying the gas bill all summer, since it would have been more expensive to turn it off and then pay for the servicemen to come turn it back on. However, I hadn't been paying for electricity -- Ingrid had been in charge of that bill. And it would have stood to reason that she would have canceled the service so she wouldn't have to pay for it anymore.
I should have expected a lack of electricity. I really should have.
I decided to think about it later; Grandma was waiting for me in the car. I went out, retrieved my suitcases, and she left. I lugged my luggage up to my room. Hm. I noticed that the bedroom window had been left open. That was okay -- I suspected that having the window open all summer had prevented my apartment from turning into an oven. I mean, it was around sixty degrees at night. That would have kept it cool. And, thanks to the flyscreen, there weren't any excess bugs or dirt or any other ill effects that could have happened from having a window open for two months.
I went back downstairs and hugged my grandmother goodbye. She drove away, and I was alone. I called up Rachel -- she was ten minutes away -- and she agreed to pay for electricity, since we didn't have any. I waited for ten agonizing minutes. And then -- ka-blammy! I looked out the window and saw them -- Rachel and her mother.
It was like one of those cheesy, cliché moments you see on those stupid TV shows of long-separated couples finally seeing each other, fields apart. And then they run through the grassy fields and embrace each other, spinning around and around and around -- and the whole time some incredibly dramatic and/or romantic music is playing.
Got that image in your head? Now, replace that cheesy, romantic image with this -- instead of the couple, you've got one Jenna and one Rachel. Instead of the flowery fields, you've got a grassy volleyball court. And instead of the background music, you have the Jenna and the Rachel squealing, "Eeeeeeeeeeee!" like two squirrelish mosquitoes on loudspeakers about to collide like two speeding bullet trains.
If that doesn't show you what it was like -- nothing will. It was pure joy.
We got to unloading all Rachel's junk from the back of her father's brand new, shiny, white truck. Her little brother, Andrew, is autistic, and he sort of helped. Mostly he was mischievously putting things in the wheels and exhaust of Dad's shiny, new truck. We got to calling the electric company -- or, at least Rachel did.
She impatiently listed to the computer lady chant off the normal office hours, and that the estimated wait time was greater than five minutes or not. I don't think she was listening to it very closely, but she thought we should go visit the power company in person and set up the account. We found out where the the utilities building was -- less than a block away, and we drove over.
Except -- it was closed. Rachel's parents and brother followed us in that shiny, white truck that -- hm. It shouldn't be making that noise, should it?
SKKKKKRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Finally, "Hello, Provo Utilities, how may I help you?" YES! YEEESSS!!! Even if Brother Cope wasn't having much luck with the truck -- we are soooo talking to a real man -- electricity, here we come!
Rachel set up the account and such. And then... "Electricity won't be on until Monday morning." Ah, phooey. Rachel and I headed back to our apartment, Brother Cope still driving in circles, backwards. Poor sap. He'd just gotten the truck that morning. Brand, stinkin' new. Unfortunate day!
Aw, well. Rachel unpacked and such. We only had until the sun was down to do whatever it was we need to do...
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! Somebody loves us? Already? Ee!
Rachel and I answered the door - one of the guys in our ward, Andrew, wanted us to come and watch a movie at his place. Apparently, everybody is ridiculously bored here at Monticello. About three quarters of the previous population left for the next two weeks. Andrew looked dejectedly bored. "Who else is coming?" "Hopefully... as many people as possible. It's like... a ghost town around here. And it's so quiet here."
So, we went to his house and watched a movie called Vantage Point. It was a little annoying because it kept rewinding and showing the same event from someone else's point of view... After that, we watched the Olympics a little. And then I went home to a pitch black apartment.
I started to get ready for bed, beginning with the removal of my contacts. I went to my bedroom and sat on my bed... and suddenly realized... oh. There... is pretty much no electricity. At all. Which pretty much means no light. Which makes it much more difficult to read my scriptures. I sat dejectedly on the bed for a moment.
You people have to understand something about me to fully understand this moment. You people all think I'm perfect. I submit to you that I am not. My whole life... consistent scripture reading has been my nemesis, my struggle. I could never do it two days in a row. I was absolutely amazed when I could do it for two or three consecutive days. And then, suddenly, for no apparent reason, and after approximately fifteen years of constant struggle -- I could finally do it. I hadn't skipped a day for nearly two whole months. Okay, so two months might seem a little pathetic to you, but the truth is, it seems like a great accomplishment for me. One that I am immensely proud of.
And it seems so shameful. To stop now. Just because I have no light. How lame is that.
So, I am on a quest to find light.
Light, light.
Oh! Flashlight! I have one of those!
... ... ... Except... I don't. My flashlight is currently in my storage unit. In Orem. That isn't going to work. I look out my window. Street lamp! That's light! I look out the bathroom window. The volleyball court is lit! I could sit on my back step and read. That would be better than sitting in the gutter and reading by dim and flickering lamp light.
I grab my daddy's scriptures, which I stole (with his permission), and sauntered downstairs to my back step. Now that I could see, I realized and remembered... oh. My contacts are... not... in... my... eyes. Ah, well. It's a good thing I am near-sighted. I will still be able to read. If I hold the book rather close to my face.
So there I was, a triple combination nearly plastered to my face, trying to read it in the dim volleyball court lights.
"Do I know you?" said a bass voice. An extremely attractive bass voice.
I looked up, as is the habit for a sighted person. I was painfully reminded that my contacts were way upstairs in the bathroom as I looked up at the flesh-colored blob in front of me. Aw, crap. But he asked a question; I should answer it.
"Um, I don't know. I can't tell. I can't see you." And it was the truth. I didn't know if I knew that voice or not.
He came closer. I still couldn't see him. "I'm Mark," he said, rather attractively. Dang it, dang it, dang it. I want to know what you look like.
"I'm Jenna. I was here for spring, and I went home for summer," I replied.
"Ah, then I wouldn't know you. I showed up for summer."
"Ah, yes. Then I definitely wouldn't know you." Nice to have that established. We continued the small talk until he noticed that I was busy, and then the flesh-colored blob sauntered off with its attractive voice. I grumbled a little to myself. I didn't even know at all what he looked like. My very best guess? Blond*, I think. Possibly with glasses. And if I had to guess what color his eyes were I would guess dark brown. But I wouldn't bet my life on it for fear of death.
I finished reading and went back inside. I curled up on the couch, because my bedding was still in the storage unit. And I fell asleep.
Sunday morning! Rachel had gone to a farewell, so I had to go to church all by my lonesome. It was pretty much the happiest thing ever. I missed BYU wards. After that, I was pretty much all by my lonesome for a while.
What to eat, what to eat?!
Well, we don't have anything perishable. Nor do we have electricity to heat up anything. I sighed dejectedly as I pulled a can of ravioli out of the cupboard. A spoon, a spoon! Dang it. No silverware. It's all in my storage unit. All in Orem! Gah! I search through the drawers of dishes Rachel brought. And... I found... a spatula!
I sat of my blue couch and ate a happy little can of cold, canned ravioli. With a spatula. If you're hungry enough, it isn't that bad. After that, I pulled out my letter-writing equipment and finished one letter I started in the airport, and wrote another two. In the midst of writing my little brother Cliftonius, I noticed a little teal car in front of my apartment trying to parallel park, and failing miserably. I laughed at it. That must be Rachel. It was. Rachel hadn't been home long when...
My phone went off. Jackie Bodily called to ask if she and Rachelle could come over with a gift. I accepted the offer, of course.
They came; the gift was a chocolate creme pie. Ee! (Aw, dang it. I need to make a pie this month!) Pie is good. Rachel and I devoured it before their eyes, and talked with Rachelle until the sun went down. (Jackie had to leave early.)
Then Rachel says abruptly, "Jenna. Who is Mark?"
I blink. "A guy in our ward."
"Oh. He has an amazing voice! What does he look like?!"
I bow my head in shame. "I don't know." I proceeded to explain the situation.
She scolded me.
"How do you know about Mark?" I queried.
"Um... My bedroom window was open last night. And while I was in bed, I heard this glorious bass voice say, 'Hi. I'm Mark.' And then I heard, 'Hi. I'm Jenna.'"
I laughed. "You should have come down. Then you could have told me what he looked like!"
"Yes, I was debating how to do such a thing. But I didn't have my contacts in either, and I was in a tank top and grubby pajama pants. I was seriously considering looking for some sort of shirt to throw on over my tank, but then it was dark and there was no hope of fixing the pajama pants too at such short notice."
I laughed again. I consoled with the fact that soon we'd have a ward directory, and then we could find out what the mysterious Mark looked like.
Her idea was to get our scriptures and read on the porch again -- with our contacts in, which we did. Sadly, no Mark.
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*Quick grammar quiz! Blond or blonde? It comes from the French. Blond is for males and blonde is for females. Less well-known is brunet versus brunette. Brunet is for males and brunette is for females. Said the same way, but spelled different. Just like fiancé versus fiancée. If you want to remember it, consider the words male and female. The word female has one more 'e'. This is what you get for corresponding with a nerd. :)
