Scrooge-like is the usual manner in which which I handle the power in my little palace, but sometimes that approach doesn’t quite work. There are certain special situations in which even a penurious Scotsman might open up the wallet as well as the heart. This cavalier attitude toward a fast-spinning electric meter wouldn’t be an everyday occurrence, but it could happen. Some of the situations, like just being cold, would have to be pretty extreme, and the missus might have to threaten physical violence, but other potential instances, like the arrival Of Mick Jagger & Co., would be no-brainers. Here are a few of the possible candidates to render the electric bill meaningless.
Brrr! – When the thermometer is broken, or at least it seems that way, and the temperature reading is a constant 10 degrees below zero (inside), it is time to break the piggy bank and crank up an Amish heater in every room in the house.
I’m Melting – The same thermometer, turned upside down, could convince me that 110 degrees is uncomfortable enough to turn on the AC, and I might even be swayed to set the thermostat below 85.
Work, Work, Work – If my boss doesn’t care how much power I use to get a job done, then that’s the time I don’t get to care, either.
Alaskan Fish – After shelling out a gazillion dollars for a professionally guided Alaskan fishing trip, and after spending six days freezing on some forsaken back-bays, I plan on buying a cold storage container and freezing the half-pound flounder (the guides all swore it was near-record-size) for at least six months before eating it. I know all my friends will want to visit and take pictures of the lunker.
Meter Runs Backwards – When my solar panels start sending power back to the grid I will have risen above caring about anything else the electric company might want to do.
Who Foots Bill – If I’m not the one who actually pays the electric bill, I might not care so much about the size of the bill.
Super Bowl, World Series (you pick) – If an important game (any event in which score is kept) is on, and the guys are all coming over to watch it on your home-stadium-Jumbo-Tron-megamillion-inch flat-screen, then the meter is banished from the mind.
Rolling Stones Coming – (to my house!) – When that drawing I signed-up for at the local street fair last summer turns out to be real, and not just a gimmick so someone can get my information to sell me vinyl siding, and the Rolling Stones will be coming to my house to play a free four-hour concert. All that is required of me is to give Keith Richards a place to plug in.
Planning to Skip Town – If I were, perhaps, a career bank-robber who was planning to head for ol’ Mexico after my next caper, then I might not care about the damage I could do to my credit rating if I didn’t pay my bill.
I’m sure there are more likely scenarios, but having the Stones over would probably trump them all.