Believe it or not, a three-hour power outage on a Monday morning has its good points. Overall it’s not the way I’d choose to start the week (or the month), but if it had to happen, why not on the first work day after the time change? I’m going to be worthless by noon anyway.

With all this extra morning light, I startled myself awake and saw that the digital readout on the clock radio was blank. As far as I knew, it might already be noon. I sprang out of bed and dialed the Time Lady, who said it was 6:57 am. (Oh. So it only felt like noon.) Then I called the utility company to see what was up.

The PG&E recording informed me that they were aware of my outage, and that they expected power to be restored to “most customers” in the area within one to four hours after the problem had been reported at 6:22 am. I went back to bed for a while, but I was restless and worried and edgy. Not twitchy, though.

It’s not all good. That big pot of coffee I was going to make tempted and tortured me as I tried to get things going. But without power I’m also without heat and running water, so there isn’t much to be done other than pull a blanket around me and wait for a chance to take a hot shower. I finished the book I’ve been reading, so it wasn’t time wasted. Not as far as I’m concerned, anyway.

However, it turns out those three hours were the best part of my day. Everything after that (and after my shower and my coffee) was real work, and not the quiet, precise work that I’m good at. I never got near a spreadsheet today. No, I had to deal with last-minute crises arising from things we’d overlooked as the kennel’s opening day approached. Now that day was here, and we weren’t nearly as ready as we pretended to be.

We began to find out just how much we don’t know about running that kind of business. And by 2:00 pm, it no longer felt like noon. By then, it felt like midnight.