I just caught up with my last blog entry and realized that I haven't had time, or electricity, since then to write about the aftermath, and yet somehow I didn't miss it.
We were without power for six days following the Saturday night October snow storm. A tree branch fell on the lines to our house and ripped the meter off the wall, causing us a bit more trouble than most of our street in getting ourselves back and running. So as the rest of Mountain Road shined with the warm glow off the televisions and bedside lamps of our neighbors our house, and that of our next door neighbor, remained in the dark.
Initially I fled the scene. Waking up in the afternoon Sunday after work the night before to a cold dark house with no food seemed like too much damn work, so I packed up the kids and went to my mother's and demanded she make us dinner and let us watch TV like the rest of America. Two days later my conscience got the best of me and I headed home to join my husband in the pioneer land.
Really, if I'm being honest, it wasn't that bad, and I maybe even liked it just a little bit.
We have a wood stove that keeps our house toasty and a gas range for making meals, so the only change for us (after cleaning out the fridge and freezer, ew) was that we were forced to sit around in the evening by candlelight and speak to one another. Strangely enjoyable.
My kids loved reading stories by headlamp and cozying around the fire so much that when the lights came back on Nathan actually cried, he was so disappointed. They didn't run back to their plugged in lives as I had imagined, but rather continued playing dress up and wearing the headlamps, making me wonder why we have grown so attached to all of these modern conveniences. Except the dishwasher. Let's get real, I need the dishwasher.