We’re in the new building, and as the kids say, it’s all good. Actually, it’s better than good. It’s fabulous.
Which is better than freaky, which is what the last night in the old building turned out to be. Wednesday night, about 10:45, the studio lights went out. Kaput.
Miracle workers Jack Kane and Ed Rankin rushed over from the new building, and somehow got the lights back on at very low power.
Then, there was some kind of surge, and the lights got so bright, we needed sunglasses to see without squinting. Jack and Ed, who can explain anything (or make something up and sound plausible), swore they had no clue as to what was going on.
And that’s what really concerned me. When the lights got bright enough to break out the sunscreen, I was thinking to myself, “If there’s some kind of higher power at work here, stop it right now. Or at least don’t make the lights explode,” which I actually thought was going to happen.
Eventually, the lighting leveled out, and we finished the program with a brief goodbye to the building.
But I have a feeling the building itself was saying goodbye.
“I’m tired. I’m done. Now get out.”