Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Empowered in Paducah: The First 12 Hours

Someday, I'll be able to stop writing about power and the lack thereof and the joys of reconnection. But, sadly, that day is not today. Don't stop reading? K? Please?

OMFG, ya'll. Still can't believe I have power. Can't. Believe it.

I learned of the blessed reconnection via a cell phone call from my Mom I received just before heading into noon meeting. I was completely worthless at the meeting because all I could breathlessly think about was GETTING HOME AS SOON AS POSSIBLE AND WALLOWING IN ELECTRICITY.

I broke away quickly and made a beeline for my home where, sure enough, flipped switches responded with floods of light, I was finally able to insinkerate the rotting food that had been festering in my kitchen sink drain, and newly formed ice cubes were automatically once again being regularly born in my freezer. I replugged all the stuff that had been powered by the Husky into wall plugs. I texted everyone I knew who had ever inquired about my situation. I called my Dad and someone else who had been exceedingly concerned and wildly supportive during my ordeal.

And then? I slept for four solid hours. Just in the middle of the day.

When I woke up I realized a whole two weeks have passed and, while I've chronicled my experiences here, it still, in the weirdest way, seems like those days disappeared into some kind of void, like they were sucked into the time/space continuum or down a rabbit hole and weren't actually lived. At the very least, they shouldn't count against me on the Big Wall Clock of Life, I think. I mean, it's FEBRUARY, for god's sake. WTF?

Another oddity is Tallulah. She is HUGE. Apparently, she went through a growth spurt during the outage; at one point my Mother remarked she could tell the dog had gotten bigger overnight. Now that we're back to regular life, I can tell Tallulah is SO MUCH bigger than when this all started. She barely fits into her usual snuggle places and she towers over Mom's dog, otherwise known as her Uncle Dudley. I can only conclude the dog is part mushroom and thrives in darkness.

I continue to have to remind myself I can, indeed, go into the bedroom without my little flashlight or a candle and sometimes find myself peeing in a dark bathroom for no particular reason. I haven't been to the gas station for fuel in, well, many MANY hours. I'm starting to feel some backlash against my formerly coveted bright purple flannel jammies, like at a minimum I might never wear them again or, at a maximum, I might invite my friends over for margaritas and an official Jammie Burning Ceremony. (We used to hold such ceremonies after breakups during which we'd drink cheap beer and burn all photographic evidence of the ex. We're much more mature now. We quit smoking cigarettes during these sessions. Mostly.)

You'll notice I've posted a new feature in the sidebar thinking of all those still suffering without power (the Power Guilts set in quickly) with links to the most updated information posted by area power companies. Hopefully, I'll be able to take that down quickly and rejoice in 100% restoration soon.


Patience-please said...

The power guilt is a bitch, isn't it?

Brenda said...

VERY well put, sweetie!

Aynex Mercado said...

Dinsk also grew like crazy one day now he is a big ball of fur. Maybe you got so used to seeing her in the dark you didn't know her real size in the light.

Suz said...

OMG. I've been remiss in my blog-reading (and blogging) lately, and it turns out it was just as your power outage saga was beginning. I totally adore all your posts about it, and totally admire you for how well you coped with it. My sis in suburban Houston was without electricity for 16 days after Hurricane Ike. Fortunately not in a damaged house, and keeping cool was the challenge there. So much of what you wrote echoed her experiences as told to me. Generator. Hard to find stuff in stores. Lines for gasoline. The fridge. Living with a handful of electrical gadgets running off a generator. Laundry.

I'm sorry I missed your posts while they were happening, although I don't know that I could have done anything to help.