Still without electricity at our house. Day 8. The latest estimate for our zip code is Thursday. I've decided to bring a toothbrush and sleeping bag over to the ladies room here at Starbucks on Market Street. A hurricane really blows, but what comes after a hurricane really sucks. The tedium of recovery grinds on after the adrenalin powered spine-starching of the event. Our vocabulary is being rewritten by the day. We now know the difference between basic needs and basic necessities, jeans that are clean and jeans that are clean enough, the difference between electricity and power, between writing as in typing and writing as in pouring out thoughts late into the night by flashlight, longhand on a yellow legal pad.
I was able to be philosophical at first, but now I just feel bitchy. The cool weather blessing has moved on, oppressive heat moving in. I won't even pretend to be enjoying this. My deep and thinky late night thoughts are mostly about wishing I could do a load of towels and a less specific longing to flip a light switch and see something happen.
I offer the following as a hymn to the Electricity Gods and a pleasant little blast from the past for those of you lucky enough to be plugged in.
Comments
And would like to trade places...
My power is back on but my in-laws aren't so lucky.
Guess where six of them have been staying???
Does FEMA pay for therapy?
Loved the old clip. The hair, the clothes, the shame!
Elizabeth
I know how to encourage them back toward home. Serve them recipes made with Spam "in the spirit of survival." I tried it for the first time in 35 years this week, and the first (and last) bite convinced me to wait at least another 35 to check and see if it's improved.
Yech!