A fantastically violent thunderstorm blasted into our valley yesterday evening. Golfballs the size of hail battered the roof for a half-hour. The house's gutter system was utterly overpowered, and great gouts of water torrented from the eaves.
Naturally, as pretty much always happens in any weather at all, the power went out, not to return until early this morning. Betty and Freddie were forced out of their teen-caves, the storm having severed their digital and televisual connections to the World of Dreams. They roamed the house, at first bewildered at the blistering son-et-lumière being put on by an angry god, and then, after its passing, moaning of boredom.
We lit candles and a butane lamp and camped out on the screened porch -- a delightfully cool place with all those golfballs melting in the surrounding lawn. We got out the Scrabble board and played a round. (I took some shit for "duvet" -- a double-word score that pretty much wiped the competition flat in the early going. Freddie: "What's a doo-vet?" You won't learn those gems on "World of Warcraft," my young flesh and blood. You might consider an improving work of literature now and then. He said lovingly.)
There arose a slightly unsettling consensus that we were quite enjoying each others' company.
It may just occur to us to pull the plug some more -- that fusebox can be padlocked, you know.
9 comments:
same thing happened to me and my wife a few weeks ago - the power went out around 6, and instead of our usual routine, we got to hang on the porch, sippin wine and chatting by candlelight for hours. we agreed that we would have a No Power day once a week.
we haven't done that, of course.
It's a fact: every evening without power saves 60 baby seals from getting clubbed to death.
When I useta run sound for th' Fabulous Del Rays I blew a circuit one night and left them standing in the dark in front of hundreds. They lit candles and did an four-part a cappella of "Surfer Girl" which was utterly sick.
We of course incorporated "the blown circuit" schtick into every show from then on.
Baby seals saved: thousands.
In the summertime, my family just seemed to naturally turn to these pursuits. (Granted, there was no internets to goggle then.) Can't tell you how many card games we played. Trivial Pursuit. Monopoly until the wind stole our money. Then into the pool and out, and another round of games.
Who wants to sit in front of the TV or PC when it's warm?
Power outages in the summer can be fun, once you recover from the shock of being disconnected from The Matrix. It's a great opportunity to have a drink on the porch and play some cards, even if I do start to miss the Internets after a bit.
Losing power in the winter always sucks, though. That's always when I feel completely tethered to the modern world.
A wonderful justification for having a screen porch, Ned. The missus and I have been saving up for one, because when we sit on our back deck in the summer we're plagued by mosquitoes, but MAN they are expensive (screen porches, not the bugs ... unless they get you sick, I guess).
bobby lightfoot said...
It's a fact: every evening without power saves 60 baby seals from getting clubbed to death.
When I useta run sound for th' Fabulous Del Rays I blew a circuit one night and left them standing in the dark in front of hundreds. They lit candles and did an four-part a cappella of "Surfer Girl" which was utterly sick.
We of course incorporated "the blown circuit" schtick into every show from then on.
Baby seals saved: thousands.
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How so? The seals are murdered in daylight.
The Leesburg Today paper did a story on the effect of that storm on one of our neighbors.
Holy crap, Roger! I had no idea! And your fish were killed? Weird with a beard! Of course I've seen all the damage to the big oaks next to the Schoolhouse and the Riddlemosers' place. I just haven't gotten around to your end of Georges' Mill since the storm.
I haven't examined it yet, but I think our house was hit by lightning. Or possibly our electric dog-fence, which I inadvertently cut and exposed this spring when we were having some bush-hogging done. All I know is, the socket where the fence got its power was blown to smithereens and the plug, a melted, shapeless mass of plastic, blew all the way across the laundry room. There's a huge black stain of soot all around the socket, too.
Ronald 'More-More' Moshki said:
"How so? The seals are murdered in daylight."
Yes, but the Dark Power is what drives the murderers to perform their heinous deeds.
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