People expect me to be writing. “Great day to write, no excuses.” You lose power, you’ve still got a legal pad and pencil, a sharpener from your makeup bag. In reality though, it’s a great time to get full. To eat all your emergency supplies before you’ve even lost power. You cook up your whole kitchen and boil water and fill a bathtub. I still have no idea why my tub is full. People say it’s to help flush toilets. I think it’s really a way to feel like you’ve done something when there’s nothing to do. I’m walking around the house now, urging everyone to use the potty, as if we have a long drive ahead. “Come on, you know you have one brewing,” I say to Lucas. Now, while we still have power and clean water. Let’s all use the loo. They go back to watching television. They might ask if we can read books instead. I’ll tell them, “No, no books. Not until our electricity is out.”
Soon there will be melty ice cream parties and indoor forts and flashlights. But for now, there will be alarmist weather updates where newscasters swear their job isn’t to cause panic, there will be dvr’d TV episodes of Homeland and Dexter, the Good Wife and Couples Therapy. On a day when you’re all but told to disconnect, a day where the lights might really go out, you cling to connections, facebook, an abandoned blog, instant messenger, anyone your iphone will let you touch. All before you even lose power.
Our power goes out. Then it flashes back on. Out. On. I might not even get to post this post, without wireless access once the power goes down. As soon as the lights flip off, the kids run upstairs. “Now, can we play the treasure hunt game now?!” No books, no play, no treasure map games. Only a diet of TV and emergency food until we lose power. Parenting at its best.
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