So, you can imagine the scene this evening as we pulled up to the metal tube gate and saw the first four dark brown electric poles shooting up from the ground along the pasture fence. I clapped, spun in a circle, and squealed all at once. Jeremy rolled his eyes. Although I knew the electric company may be coming this week to install the lines, I was assured that they would call ahead and give me fair warning so I could come and monitor the animal situation. An assurance of calling ahead actually means, "I have absolutely no intention of calling you." And I've learned this is typically the case. As an FYI - few people who regularly deal in rural settings respect such piddly details as fence lines, padlocks, or "Beware of Guard Donkeys" signs. If you live in the country, the world is your oyster, and a closed gate is actually just an invitation to enter. Meaning: I've experienced more privacy and respect for property lines in my postage-stamp sized suburban plot of land then we've ever found on the acreage. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Rather, I give fair warning to those venturing hither and yon in search of privacy - country folks are real friendly folks. They'll climb a fence just to chat you up about the weather.
Where was I? Oh, surprise electricity, that's right. So there we were, driving up the road in order to set out a new bale of hay to discover that "SURPRISE!" the company had somehow obtained our gate lock code over the course of our several months negotiations and had used it without warning in order to set the lines. Hallelujah - we (almost) have power! (Actual wires will be strung tomorrow). For the first time since signing the construction loan, there's tangible progress out there and, I'm not gonna lie, it's pretty exciting.
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