DEBRIS.COMgood for a laugh, or possibly an aneurysm

48 hours after our lights went out, PG&E deigned to release an estimated repair time: 8:00 PM tomorrow. In the meantime, I’d seen lights all over town going on and off for two days. Every time the wind blows, another section of the county goes dark.

I knew there was some risk in moving farther out into the country, but I didn’t expect to be out of power for three days. It’s especially incongruous that the weather has been beautiful all day, and the utility is still blaming “storm conditions.”

We’re fortunate in some ways. We were out of town the first night. The second night was inconvenient but interesting, with rustic-adventure appeal; I read by candlelight, and wrote on my laptop in front of the woodstove. The third night began to suck, as food spoiled and the water pressure dropped to nothing. (Well pumps require electricity.)

My house is a wreck of takeout containers and unread newspapers. It smells of woodsmoke and scented candles. It sounds of silence — a sharp contrast to the loud music that is the pulse of the place whenever I’m conscious (assuming the power is on). Behind the silence is the low throbbing of the neighbors’ generators.

Yeah, we should have bought a generator too, but after five years at the old house we’d never needed one. Now, at the new house, we’re apparently at the end of the power line, lowest priority on the repair list for the guys in leather gloves and rubber boots. i think we’ll forego the generator and put a solar array on the roof instead.

An acquaintence on a local mailing list phrased it well: “We’re learning to live like the Amish, but are doing it with a lot less grace.”

Amen to that. Or, maybe, gesundheit, or something.