I crafted part of a post yesterday, went out and visited a friend for a while, came home, relaxed and watched some of my favourite BBC America early afternoon shows with Ian. We weren’t even part-way through the last one when Bzzz-pop! EVERYthing went off. I sat for a moment, thinking it would come back just like it did the other day — nothing. It wasn’t even raining outside, so what was going on?
We went to the window not really expecting to see anything, and saw this:
Downed power lines: The only exciting thing around here for years. (Can you spot the cop?)
“Well, I’ll vacuum the floor, there’s nothing better to — crap!”
“I’ll put a wash on…” sigh
“Maybe I’ll get onlin…”
After about 20 minutes of nothing, the road was blocked off and the power company finally showed up to start the work. It went on. And on. And on.
Three hours later, I actually had a rational thought: I’ll start dinner, it’s a gas cooker/stove. Yeah, it is, but I planned on making a new dish last night, one that I know the boys will love AND EAT, and guess where the Chicken Crescent Roll recipe was? Online at recipezaar. So much for that craving.
The closer it got to 6 o’clock the more I worried about how I could get a message to Bryan. You see, I think I am the last of a dying breed that doesn’t, and never has, owned a mobile/cell phone. Even my own Mum has one. I’ve never really had a need for one – well, maybe with the exception of that one time the creepy guy from work followed me home (on foot) and I had to call the Fuzz, but that’s another story – and just never got one. Bryan has one and that’s good enough for me.
At least for now.
He managed to talk to the cop parked at the bottom of the street into letting him gain access to our road (it’s a dead end) and came home. Seeing as there wasn’t much else he could do, he got on the lawn tractor and mowed the lawn for an hour-and-a-half, then started up the barbecue while I made potatoes and green beans with the water we had. (We live in an un-incorporated “town” and have a underground water well. A well powered by e-l-e-c-t-r-i-c-i-t-y. If we drain the reserve, we can’t bathe, shower or even pee and flush. It’s fantastic.)
As the night drew on and the workers’ crane travelled up and down replacing the poles and cables the passing logging truck had pulverised, we put the boys to bed dirty (they’d been in the sandbox earlier), and in total darkness.
And twiddled our thumbs.
As we sat sharing the earplugs to Bryan’s iPod, I couldn’t help but think about how the Amish would laugh at us Englishmen, wallowing in our own self pity we’d created. With only a camping lantern as a distraction, and a box of matches as our passport to gastronomical modernisation, they’d guffaw at how our life had come to a screeching, kidless halt at just 9 p.m. It was then I realised we were lacking in the two person entertainment department: No UNO cards – not even a full deck of face cards, and no Twister Wheel of Fortune to beat the pants off of Bryan with.
Maybe I should’ve just gone and cried myself to sleep with my two faceless Amish dolls.
Around 02:15, I woke with a jump and had this eerie feeling someone was in the house. My eyes flicked open wide. Would you Adam & Eve it?* The power was back on. A whopping eleven hours later, some sort of normalcy had returned.
It really is amazing how we can all become a slave to electricity; and it’s not until we lose it, that we realise how much we depend on it.
Electricity is my Crack. There, I’ve said it.
*Cockney slang: believe it.