“This is it,” she told me. “The baby will be born today.”

There were other things I had been planning to do that day. I had just gotten a check in the previous day’s mail, and I was going to go buy groceries and pay our overdue electric bill, for one thing. But all that would have to wait.

Phoebe’s mother arrived around noon. As with our previous births, Annette had one job to do: everything, except getting the baby out. Above all, she had to babysit our four extra-uterine kids. (Thanks, Annette.)

She brought a box of donuts, and a cell phone. The phone was not hers; she found it in the street in front of our house! Weird. I don’t have a cell phone, and I don’t really know exactly how to operate them, but by slapping buttons more or less at random, I managed to dial a number labeled “Work.” This, I deduced rightly, was where the phone’s owner was employed. A woman answered, reciting the name of some insurance company, and identifying herself as “Bridget.”

“Hi,” I said. “Did someone who works there lose a cell phone?”

“Why?”

“Ah, because I found a cell phone.”

“Where?”

“In the street. On 18th Street.”

“18th Street?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. It’s probably mine. Is it blue?”

It was. “Yes,” I answered.

“It’s mine. Where is it now?”

“Um, it’s, in my hand? I’m talking on it…”

“Where?”

“Oh, right.” I gave her my address, and told her she could pick it up whenever she wanted. Then I had to go get a bottle of wine.

We aren’t big wine drinkers, but we always open a bottle when a new baby is born. Also, for some reason Phoebe really, really wanted a package of Pepperidge Farm Brussels cookies. So I had to go shopping. For the wine, I chose “Relax Riesling.” Riesling is a fruity, festive blend, and “Relax” struck a responsive chord with me.

At around 1:30, I stuck in our Beauty and the Beast DVD, hoping that it would distract our kids, who were starting to grow restless. It worked, too, for a few minutes.

That’s when the lights went out.

I strolled to the circuit breaker box, but I already knew what I would see. A uniformed representative of Oklahoma Gas and Electric was there snipping the cables, or whatever they do.

“What are you doing?” I asked, redundantly.

“Turnin’ off your ‘lectricity.”

“How come?” I knew how come, but it felt like the right line.

“Didn’t pay the bill.”

“How much?”

“Hundred and nine dollars.”

“Can I pay it to you?”

“Nope.” And he drove away.

I went back inside. “Turned off for nonpayment,” I reported cheerfully. “No biggie. I’ll get this straightened out.” Hmmm. Can’t pay the bill online, because our computers run on ‘lectricity. Can’t pay by phone, because our phone is one of those cordless ones that needs ‘lectricity too. I had to find a way to…

Ha! We had a cellphone! I called OG+E on dear, dear Bridget’s phone, and paid the bill, with dear, dear Annette’s credit card.

“Thank you for your payment, Mr. Gleeson, is there anything else I can help you with today?”

“Well, yes. I would like my electricity turned back on now.”

“Your service will be restored within 24 hours, sir.”

“Twenty-four hours! Can you do it sooner?”

“All I can guarantee is it will be within 24 hours, sir.”

“But your guy just left! He’s probably still in the neighborhood! Can’t you radio him, and have him swing by our house again?”

“No, we have to process requests in the order received, sir.”

“What if it’s an emergency? Is there any way you can, you know, put a rush on it, or…?”

“No, sir.”

“Can I pay a surcharge, or a rush charge, or something?”

“No, we don’t offer anything like that, sir. All I can guarantee is it will be within 24 hours. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

“No, no thank you.” I hung up.

“What did they say?” Phoebe shouted from the bedroom.

“They said they’d turn our power back on!”

“When?”

“Real soon!”

(To be continued tomorrow)