The power blows out about once a year, and then Oncor swears on a stack of Bibles that it has fixed the transformer out back in the alley. It has become a ritual of spring, which probably has something to do with the hour that everyone all at once turns on their airconditioning. This time, for some strange reason, the reception phone is working. At the moment, that is all that is working. (Meanwhile, I will continue posting from an undisclosed location.)