DEBRIS.COMgood for a laugh, or possibly an aneurysm

52 hours with no light and no running water. 52 hours of early nights, of dirty dishes that can’t be washed, of hauling buckets of rainwater to flush toilets. 52 hours of the walls closing in. 52 hours of sweaty lunchmeats in a dank refrigerator, assaulting the senses of anyone who dares to venture inside.

52 hours of the beer smelling like salami.

We coped with the outage fairly well, and when I say “fairly well,” I’m lying. We depend on electricity to live, and I bet half the population would begin hunting their neighbors for sport within 72 hours if the lights ever went off for good.

Photos from the Great Storm of 2008