It’s the time of the year when the first hint of stormy weather gives fair warning that a power failure could occur at the drop of a hat.

Seasoned lakesiders know it’s smart to have flash lights, battery powered lamps, candles and lighters strategically placed around their homes to manage when suddenly plunged into darkness. Newcomers usually get on the learning curve after fumbling around in pitch black a couple of times.

A series of blackouts that struck Rancho del Oro homesteads over the past week threw my neighbors and me for a loop. They happened with no relation to thunder and lightning, rain and hail, strong winds or fallen trees. CFE transformers that feed the neighborhood just blew out repeatedly for no apparent reason.

Starting Friday midday our Neighborhood Watch WhatsAp chat became saturated with a flurry of messages from residents sharing information on which addresses were in brownout, which were down altogether and which privileged few still enjoyed full juice.

Frustrations mounted as the power came and went all day Saturday and through the night. We ganged up on the utility, dialing the 071 customer over and over again until service was fully restored on Sunday morning.

Despite the aggravations, the persistent power outages engendered a spirit of solidarity. At one point someone issued an invitation for a candlelight poolside tequila swilling bash.  “The doorbell doesn’t work so bang like hell if you’re coming,” the hostess wrote. Good fun and good humor. How great is that?

Once the problem was resolved, we all relaxed and got back in the groove of normal life. But the respite was short lived. Wednesday evening I heard an ominous boom from down they way. The TV screen went black just about the time I was ready for my by nightly Anderson Cooper news fix.

Grumbling “Here we go I again,” I grabbed a flashlight, my latest electric bill showing my service number, a pen and Post-it pad and sat down by the phone. I dialed 071. After a prolonged pause the standard recorded message kicked in. “Marque uno si en su cuadra o colonia no tiene luz,” i.e., press one if block or neighborhood doesn’t have lights.

I drummed my fingers on the desk in tune with the classic music played for callers on hold. It droned on for a while before suddenly morphing into a busy tone. I went through the routine once, twice, three, four times, watching the hands of a nearby clock roll on for a full 15 minutes. By the time a human voice finally came on the line I was not a happy camper.

A poor guy named Adrian got an earful about our on-going neighborhood nightmare along with some unsavory comments about CFE’s deficiencies vis-à-vis rising fees. He took it all with aplomb, politely giving me the 11-digit report number and the usual one- to four-hour timeframe for restoring service. “Hahaha,” I smirked before slamming down the receiver.

Perhaps the CFE folks have got our number, understanding that the Rancho del Oro gang will run them ragged every time the power fails. Within the hour the lights were back on. How long our power fortunes will last remains to be seen. Or not, if the veil of darkness returns.