Two Days Without Power

I opened my eyes on Monday morning and saw that my alarm clock was black, so I asked, "Why is the power off?" because it was the fourth time it's happened since we moved in and Calvin said it was a storm.

My bedroom was dark, I could have sworn it was five o'clock if my alarm didn't say eight (it still worked, only the background light didn't) and I felt like sleeping for five more hours, but I got up and made my bed in the dark.
Opening the curtain didn't help a bit.
As I picked a blanket up off the floor, I heard a pop and a white light flashed through the window. Then the floor shook under my feet and I ran to the lounge and sat on the couch by Tasha, afraid our house would be struck and we'd all die. It was rather exciting.

So, we ate breakfast by candle light. Like in the olden days.
Then I took my Bible and the Canterbury Tales off to the library to read, because of the two windows that reach down to the floor, making it the brightest room in the house.
Tasha lay on the couch in the lounge and read with a flash light and fell asleep.
I must admit, I fell asleep too.

Our water still worked, so don't worry. Only, there's no window in our bathroom, so I lit a dozen candles and placed them everywhere: on the back of the toilet and in the shower and on the shelf and beside the sink. Tasha knocked a red one over and wax that looked like blood splashed onto the vanity top. It's still there. Dad said the bathroom looked like a Roman Catholic Church and blew them out, because they were too hot and useless if you're not in there.

A branch from our box elder (which is a weed) was struck by lightning and burned black and Calvin and our neighbor, Darrell, hacked it up for firewood. The branch broke a wire when it fell and we thought maybe that's why we had no power, then we heard that a man on Raven street had a huge tree fall over and break all the wires. That's why we had no power.

As the day went on, the sun came out and we were surprised how much it seemed like we had power, except that our fridge was growing warm and the freezer was melting. We have two fridge/freezers and two chest freezers filled with meat and milk and all sorts of things. The power didn't come on at 2 like they had said it would, when Dad looked it up on-line. Then we lost the Internet and Dad's computer died. Laundry was piling up and so were the dishes.
Then our neighbor, he's Mexican and very nice and likes to hunt coons, he said we could borrow power from his house, so we stretched orange extension chords across the road, from his front door through our garrage and we could run two fridges off of it at a time.
Our house grew warmer, because the air-conditioning was escaping.
Calvin burned the branch, part of it, and Dad decided to cook dinner on the fire-pit, so the house would stay cool. I marinated steak in my favorite way, where I couldn't tell you what I put in if you asked. Oh, just a bunch of stuff, I can't remember.
Dad grilled.
And we ate
on the deck
where it was light.

I like the way the house grew dark as the out-doors did and we had to light candles to see. And I grew sleepier the darker it grew, till at nine o'clock I thought it was about time to turn in, without even wanting to read. Computer was off the menu.
And I asked Dad if we could do this, even when the power turned on, and let the sun tell us when it's night, the way God meant it to be.
I set up candles on the island between dishtowels and washed the dishes and let them dry there. I swept the floor by memory, then blew the candles out.
I carried one to bed with me, a stumpy, fat, white one that was drooping and dripping wax, and I set it on my bedside table and read The Canterbury Tales by candle light. That made me happy.
Then I blew it out.

The next day was the same, except it clouded over a six o'clock in the evening and it was dreadful preparing dinner in the dark, till I strapped a headlamp on.
At about two o'clock in the afternoon that day, I scared myself when I began walking around aimlessly with nothing to do, feeling that something was missing, then realized that I would have been on the computer, normally. I made myself read a book and informed myself, too, that this was not a good thing. I'll try not to go on the computer as much.

The lights turned on during dinner while Dad was praying and
Mom whooped. But us kids were sad.
The poor candles in the middle of the table where trivialized by the false light on the ceiling.
We blew them out.

All that to say, I like power-outs. I should live in Zimbabwe.