I had a rare Monday off work this week. My teenage daughters and I had big plans to get caught up with Dexter, eat bad food, and generally play hooky from life. Makin’ memories.
(I secretly had plans to shoot some pics in-world for a friend’s new skin line while we watched Dexter, but that’s just between you, me and the bottle of vodka.)
At 8 a.m., I was standing on my back porch with coffee in hand, watching a dark storm blow in. I marveled at the beauty of nature, scratched my ass, yawned, and puttered back inside for more java.
At 8:05, a crack of thunder shook the house so hard that it roused the girls from the Sleep of the Dead that only teens seem able to sleep. They came shuffling in to the coffee maker. We stood shoulder to shoulder at the back windows and oooh-ed and ahhhhh-ed at nature’s wonder.
At 8:10, the trees in our back yard were bent sideways and the rain flew horizontal into the windows. We held tight to our coffee mugs and exclaimed at nature’s strength.
At 8:15 a cow blew past the window, the wind sounded like a train and I began to seriously consider hunkering down in the bathtub with a mattress over our heads. We unplugged the computers and electrical stuffs and watched nature’s madness from the safety of the center of the room.
At 8:23 there was a clap of thunder that sent us all to the floor from fear of the ceiling coming down on us. Our dogs were huddled there with us. We watched the windows bow in from the air pressure outside and cursed nature’s fury. There might have been some nervous laughter. It might have come from me.
At exactly 8:28, we lost power. The sounds of the storm peaked and the wind sounded like a coyote on peyote. My oldest eyed her empty coffee cup, measured the distance to the coffee maker, and then shook her head and set her cup to the side. We sat back to back and hoped for nature’s mercy.
By 8:45, the winds had stopped, the rain was just a shower, and the clouds looked normal and fluffy instead of black and menacing. We felt safe enough to stand at the windows again, and refilled our java.
And at 9:00, the sun broke through and the rain stopped completely. We walked outside to survey the damage. Stepping into our front yard, we found huge limbs, 2 smashed jack-o-lanterns that weren’t ours, a car sized piece of tin roofing, and a pink yard flamingo from the crazy lady down the road. It was so quiet, no hum of power, that we could hear every word our neighbors said.
And our neighbors were out in force. I don’t live in an urban area, but it’s not exactly rural either. We rarely see all of our neighbors outside all at once, blinking up at the sun like survivors of Armageddon and taking stock of the odd, random debris in their yards. I saw the lady across the street hold up a dog bed and look around.
For the first couple of hours of The Day With No Power, it was fun. It was novel. We donned our best yard working clothes and got right to the clean-up. Neighbors worked together, chainsaws buzzed, and people gossiped. I enjoyed dragging downed limbs for exactly 2 minutes before it got old, but I labored on because that’s just what you do.
Word soon spread that our entire county, including a major university, was without power. We felt banded together in hardship. We nodded over our driveways at each other and hiked up our britches like real pioneers.
By 11:30, the hard labor left us starving. This is the year 2010, so we fully expected our power to be back on any minute. We weren’t concerned with conserving the cold air in the fridge- we stood and pondered lunch with no fridge light. We put together sandwiches and ate on the porch.
Around noon I wanted to know the weather forecast. How does one get the weather with no computer? No TV? No radio? A dead cellphone? I looked at the sky and shrugged. But I felt a bit itchy, a little twitchy.
By 1:15, our yard was as clean as we cared to make it, and we all wandered back inside. We missed our music, our coffee, our Google. But we just knew the power would be back on any minute now. We retreated to our respective corners and brooded.
The DT’s set in around 2:00. I found myself dusting my computer and cleaning off my desk around it. Tracing my finger over the keyboard. Sitting in my office chair and spinning aimlessly. I even organized my picture backup discs!
At 3:00 we had to get out. We couldn’t bear one more moment in our quiet, music-less house. We drove through town but nothing was open. Not Starbucks, not Barnes & Noble, not even the gas station. We needed coffee! and stat!
After 45 minutes of driving around, we finally found an old country gas/guns/grocery store open. We listened at the door for banjo music before stepping inside. I pushed my youngest through first, in case there was danger. The man behind the counter had only 2 teeth and didn’t speak of a word of English (only Appalachian), but he had a generator and the best coffee I’ve ever had outside of Hawaii. We bought 2 cups each and stocked up on the necessities (batteries, National Enquirer, shotgun shells) and headed back home.
As evening set in, we became rather weary of the whole situation. How long does it take to turn the damn power back on? I glared out the window, mindlessly tapping my fingers on the table like a keyboard.
Around 6 p.m. we needed to face the fact that we might not have power back before dark. We rounded up the extent of our Emergency Equipment. It was a sad sight piled on the dining room table: 6 candles (all scented), 2 boxes of matches, 1 zippo lighter, 2 bottles of vodka (priorities people!), one can of propane, half of our campstove (the other half was never accounted for), 3 flashlights (one Buzz Lightyear and you have to hit it on your palm every 3 seconds to keep it lit), 3 sleeping bags… and that was it. It was fast getting cold outside, and we don’t have a fireplace (oh trust me, I want one, but youngest daughter has asthma, so I got a hot tub instead).
When the sun dipped behind the mountains around 7:00, we looked at each other and shrugged. We lit all the candles, brought every pillow and blanket we owned into the living room, huddled down on the floor and played cards. That was fun for maybe an hour. The Scrabble was fun for 15 minutes, and then it got really interesting when we changed it to only curse words. My youngest can’t be beat when it comes to profanity.
10:00 and we were ready to kill each other. The sound of the dog’s breathing was making me crazy. My oldest snapped at me to “stop clicking your nails!!!” It started getting damn cold and 3 of the candles went out. But the room smelled marvelous.
We finally became so cold and bored and cranky that at some point, I have no idea of the time, we dozed, piled on the floor like puppies trying to keep warm. I jolted awake every 10 minutes thinking the house was on fire, only to find a dog ass in my face or a kid foot up my nose instead.
After a particularly foul dog fart right in my face, I got up and patrolled the grounds. (This entails walking from window to window, not actually pacing off the property.) I kept a quilt wrapped around my shoulders and stood looking out for some sign of the power guys the window.
I must have fallen asleep standing up; when the power came back on I screamed like a little girl, bumped my head on the window and tangled up in the quilt flailing around. My kids jumped like they’d been shocked and the dogs were barking before they even opened their eyes. It was mayhem, it was exactly 3:14 in the morning and every light in my house was on. It was like Christmas, only scarier.
The adrenaline rush kept me awake for about 10 minutes; I blame my exhaustion on too much fresh air and hard labor. I slept like a log after turning off all the lights and making sure my computer was in good working order.
We met in the kitchen this morning around the coffee maker, wearing our wood blistered hands and tired faces like badges of honor. We’d survived 19 hours without power. Without speakers, Google, facebook, microwaves and cell phone chargers. We were so proud.
But we never, ever want to do it again. Ever. Not even a little.
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