Georgia Power Company, a subsidiary of Southern Company, the largest greenhouse gas emitter in the U.S. utility industry, brought my own lesson home to me yesterday and reminded me how "home" is just a formation of the mind.

More specifically, when I got home from work yesterday, with just barely enough time to feed the cats and change my clothes before Monday Night Zazen, I discovered that they had turned off my electricity. Flip the switch, and nothing happens. Guess I hadn't paid my bill.

Several months back, the power company converted me from monthly billing by mail to "paperless billing," and now I'm supposed to check their website frequently to find out when my next payment is due and for how much. Occasionally, I do get emails from them advising me when my latest bill is available on line, but I hadn't received one in a while, so I found it more than a little annoying they they went ahead and cut off my electricity without any advance warning.

There's nothing like a dark house to remind you how dependent you are on electricity. I wanted to call them and complain - and hopefully get the power back on - but I didn't have their number or a recent bill on which I could have found their number. I couldn't look them up on line either, until it finally dawned on me that I could find their number using my 'Droid. However, it was low on power and I couldn't recharge it, but I went ahead and used the remaining charge to Google their telephone number, went through the long automated menu of options, and waited for the next available operator, all while on the last ounces of juice left in the phone.

I wanted to be kind and equanimous on the telephone, but in truth I was a more than a little gruff to the attendant on the other end. I complained that I was not given any warning and would gladly have paid had I known, et cetera, but couldn't send them an on-line payment now because they took the power away from my computer. She told me that I could pay over the phone, but that I'd have to call another number, there would be a $3.95 service charge and a $50 reconnection fee, and that it could take them up to 24 hours to restore service. Also, it would be up to me to call Georgia Power back after I made the payment and give them the confirmation number of my completed transaction. Apparently, the collection service can't be bothered to inform their client that the debt had been settled.

I was plenty frustrated but I had no option but to call, give my credit card information to the payment "service," and then call Georgia Power back with my confirmation number. And try as I might, I couldn't help but being snarky the whole time, even while I knew that even if they were being a little heavy handed, it was all really nobody's fault but my own.

By the time I had finished, I was at the very end of the phone's power, it was now almost too dark in the house to do much of anything, and I just barely had enough time to make it to the zendo. I brought the charger for the phone with me to charge its batteries while I recharged my psyche.

When I got home, they hadn't surprised me by quickly restoring my service, so I had to make due the best that I could in a dark house. I listened to my iPod a little and read a little by flashlight before going to sleep. I set the alarm on my cell to wake me up the next morning, and showered in the dark (the water is heated by gas, so I was still able to at least enjoy a hot shower). When I got home from work today, the power was back on.

Looking back, I think what got me so angry was that their unannounced move seemed so invasive, so intrusive. By cutting off my power, they reduced my "home" to a mere "house." Whatever that added element is that makes a house a home was gone. To put it another way, they stripped away my delusion that "home" was anything but an impermanent aggregate of brick, wood and glass, and for a day I was in effect rendered "homeless." This place where I'm now typing was just a dark and uninviting shelter where I was able to sleep in peace and take a shower, but not the brick-and-mortar extension of the self that I've come to consider "home."

Insult to injury: today, I did get an email from the power company telling me that my bill was available for viewing on line and that the full amount that I had to pay over the telephone last night to get the power back on was due in two weeks. There was no mention of service termination or its re-establishment, no credit for the payment that I made, and worst of all no apology for their blunt treatment.