DAY SEVEN WITHOUT POWER. THIRD NIGHT IN A HOTEL. I write this from a hotel room for the third night in a row after losing electricity like a million other people in last Friday night’s storm. Some of you have been waiting to hear from me for one reason or another (contracts, proposals, grades!) and I had every intention of getting it all to you until my 114 year-old house was slammed head-on by high winds and rain. I’m still waiting on the power company to restore my electricity, the insurance adjuster to come and tell me what I already know (You have a mess to clean up here,) and the tree removal fellow to spend about six hours to chop, drop, and chip ALOT of trees from my yard. We have fence, roof, gutter, trees, and power damage. A piece of slate roof was hurled downward so fast it’s impaled on the prongs of our antique iron fence. No one was hurt, but we are pretty bothered by it all. And apparently this many trees hitting the ground all at once has unleased a boat-load of pollen. I can hardly breathe or see through my red, itchy eyes.
But I found out in the last six days that what I thought was my idea of hell (no utilities, no cash, no gas in either car, one day of cat food, no ice, very little technology) was more empowering than over whelming. Yeah, I’m exhausted, and I’m pretty tired of playing “pioneer woman” with the candles and oil lamps, but I discovered a resourse I was unaware of. I’m coping and working with what I have instead of grabbing for what I don’t have. It took a couple of days but food, water, and ice trickled in, and while I waited I journaled and journarled and journaled. It obviously has kept me calm and rational and given me a record of what’s been going on.
Everybody is fine. It hasn’t been a picnic by any stretch of the imagination, and many people are dealing with worse than what my husband and I experienced. But I’ll be damned if I don’t own a gi-normous generator by this weekend. Keeping the wine cold was near impossible without any ice.
Be well, write well.