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March Stew on That
by Rachel Stewart / Contributing Writer
The following article appeared in the print issue of Ponca City Monthly magazine, which includes hyperlocal stories about Ponca City. Get full access to all online articles, videos, and content by becoming a paid subscriber. We offer free and paid subscription plans. Find rack locations to pick up your free print copy here, or subscribe here to get online access plus exclusive content.
I had the unfortunate displeasure of having my gas turned off last month, yes, during the bitterly cold winter, and no, not because I didn’t pay my bill, but because we had a gas leak.
We didn’t have heat or hot water for about three days, and I just gotta say, I’m not about that life. I wasn’t made to rough it. I was made for convenience and ease and comfort. My car just texted me that it needs new spark plugs. That’s the life for me. The other day the TV remote was literally 3 feet away from me and instead of getting up off the couch to retrieve it, I spent 30 minutes figuring out how to hook my phone up to my TV to use it as a remote and I did it and it was the best day of my life. I have a robot who vacuums my house that I get to control via my phone. I have a house robot I can ask, “Hey, Alexa – do elephants think humans are cute?” and she responds (The answer is yes, elephants do think humans are cute, similarly like we think kittens are cute.) And on top of having the gas turned off, my dear husband conveniently had an out-of-town work trip planned, so I had to fare the cold alone like a peasant from 1849, and when the gas was finally turned back on, I was tasked with turning on all the appliances by myself. That is a BOY job. I’m not supposed to be in a dirty, disgusting, cob-webby utility closet lighting a pilot on fire, I’m not supposed to be using tools to turn gas valves on. I’m a GIRL. And yes, I am an independent woman who can quite literally do anything I put my mind to, I just don’t want to do anything outside or dirty or anything that doesn’t involve a glass of Prosecco, and I also don’t want to do things I don’t want to do.
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