Just. Plain. Wrong.

I understand good-natured jests between friends, but in the middle of December, gloating that power has been restored, including in the voice mail a hope that the recipient (me) does not yet have power back, is just wrong. This is not a race. Furthermore, as our refrigerator and freezer slowly allow food to rot, as our cats have to live in temperatures that were down to 50 by mid-day today, as we have to walk around the house in two to three layers, eating food before it goes bad (but not the stuff we cannot cook) or spending extra money to eat at restaurants, such a voice mail message is backward.

Yes, I was pissed. Indeed, I was justifiably pissed, and I let that be known in my own voice mail by which I expressed by shock and disappointment. I think I am done venting now. That's the thing about friends—it's the defining trait, in fact—feet get inserted in mouths, but no one ever gets teeth kicked in over it. Let's hear it for Blake's "A Poison Tree."