Yesterday, I spend an enormous amount of time trying to figure out the steps to getting the electric turned on. It's a convoluted dance with far too many steps.
At least two parts were accomplished in hours of phone calls. The paperwork for the new service installation has been filled out. And we have a permanent 911 address.
We have an address.
Oh. My. God. We exist. On a map somewhere is a little dot with our names attached to it. If you were on our property and broke your leg you could call Emergency Service and they could find you. This one little thing feels so monumentous. Now, we feel real, like a stuffed rabbit that got loved too much.
God knows, there's a lot of love around us right now.
I remember when my grandparents got 911 service on their farm in rural Missouri. We just hoped we would never have to use it!
ReplyDeleteI'm so excited for you!
I believe this will translate into our post office address but I'm not 100% sure on that.
ReplyDeleteJust wait until people can get Google Maps directions to your place. Then you've hit the big time! It never occured to me that places with no homes didn't really exist. I hope to be doing this stuff for myself in a few years so I'm learning a ton from reading your blog. Good luck with the rest of the steps for getting the power.
ReplyDeleteI thought immediately of my favorite line from "The Jerk" -- "The new phonebooks are here, the new phonebooks are here!" Now you really are somebody!
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