Roughing it

It's been a long week and no mistake.

On Tuesday I had the girls from my Bible study over for a cookie bake. I discovered that I have managed to run a household for 2.5 years without ever using food colouring, which of course is essential if you're going to be frosting sugar cookies. (Sugar cookies' only function is to provide a nice backdrop for the frosting, since they taste pretty bland on their own. But we continue to make them, nonetheless. One instance where being pretty is all it takes.) Off to the store to buy food colouring. We had fun, and ended up with plates and plates of cookies. Couldn't possibly get through the Christmas season without at least one cookie bake!

On Wednesday the cable was down. We have VOIP, so this meant no internet connection and no phone line. I felt desolate and isolated without access to email or news, but fortunately I had a cell phone to call Michael just in case. He had cleverly set up the phone such that if the cable connection ever goes down, the home phone automatically forwards to his cell phone, so there was no risk of missing any calls. But it felt grueling to me.

Yesterday grew even more dire. Scarcely had I gotten up and admired the pretty trees, all covered with frost and icicles from the ice storm, than the lights flickered and went out. For five long hours Jane and I languished in a dark, quiet house, amidst the flickering light of candles (which, like Bob Cratchit's spark, did not heat the room much) while the temperature steadily dropped. I was afraid to open the fridge or run hot water, not sure how long we'd be without power. Of course there was no electricity for the internet, which meant, again, no phone. No way to heat up anything to eat, so I gnawed plain bread slices and drank tap water. I daren't open the door lest more precious heat escape, so no checking the mail or peering down the street to see whether lights were coming on in other neighbourhoods. I couldn't even escape to warmth and light because, with no internet or phone, I had no way of knowing how many other areas were affected. No guarantee the library offered a warm haven. And besides, the garage door opener runs on electricity anyway. Michael by cell phone was my only contact with the outside world, and he did walk me through the manual release on the garage door just in case, but I doubted I would be able to lift it or prop it up. And I had to ration my cell phone minutes lest the battery die, because the only way I could recharge it would be to plug it into the car charger, which I couldn't run without the garage door being open!

You don't realise how completely helpless and dependent on others you are until one of the props that you unconsciously rely on is pulled out from under you, and you didn't even know how much you took it for granted. How would I ever survive without all the trappings of civilisation? I thought we were well prepared to handle any moderately major crisis, with a pantry well-stocked with canned goods and a pile of wood in the back yard. But practically speaking, I've never built a fire in this fireplace before, fireplaces are no good at heating a house, and most of the cans contain vegetables, which would not be enough to sustain life for any length of time.

The worst of it was (and Michael laughed to think that this was my main worry) that I was supposed to make a dessert for him to bring to work today, and I couldn't do a thing without electricity! I couldn't bake anything, obviously, but I couldn't even make no-bakes on the stovetop! I couldn't even melt the ingredients in the microwave! I briefly considered trying to melt chocolates for fudge over a candle, but I didn't think that would work too well.

I could bundle up, and I bundled Jane up, but her little fingers were quite purple from the cold. Mostly I put her down for naps, since it was dark enough outside that she fell asleep readily and she could keep warm best under the covers.

Finally the electricity came back on, in late afternoon. And there was great rejoicing. And I don't think I will ever want to move to Alaska.