Friday, November 4, 2011

Lights out

There is a very good reason I was born in this century; I like electricity.

As many of you know, last Saturday the Northeast experienced a crazy – I’m talking 2AM-Tequila soaked-subway-guy-in-Streisand-drag-yelling-at-his-imaginary-armadillo-and-quoting-Glenn Beck-CRAZY winter storm. Meteorologists have dubbed Snowmagedon 11, Alfred - really? Batman’s gender neutral butler is a big, bad scary storm? Was Nigel taken?

Moving on.

Over a foot of snow, half a million power outages; SIX days in the dark with no end in sight.

Yes, there are far worse fates than a week sans electric: war, famine, GOP candidates – but let’s face it – after a few days kicking it Laura Ingalls style, the bloom is off the rose.

Channeling my inner Sophia Petrillo: picture it, Connecticut, October 2011.

Starbucks, Panera, McDonalds, any establishment fortunate to be on the grid now resemble yuppie refugee camps. Desperate latte, Big Mac, bagel wielding cyber surfers, encased in Patriots Snuggies and protective gear, un-showered soccer Moms' and CEOs', body blocking eager opponents battling for vacant outlets, scrambling to recharge there handheld links to the outside world. It is madness, plain and simple madness.

We are among the fortunate; the few, the warm, the fed, the stink-free, holed up at Grandmom and Pop’s House of Baby Boomers and Electrically Able. And although we appreciate the luxury of hot showers, flushing toilets and microwave popcorn, there is a downside to temporary housing within a predominantly over 60 community – children, especially those with rampant energy bursts, are not the norm.

At home, I bellow at the top of my lungs when the cherubs enter into hand to hand combat. In a shared, adult inhabited building, screech owl parenting is frowned upon.

At home, the breakables lay tucked away in bubble-wrap tombs, hibernating the time away between Nerf Gun phase and college years; here – so much to break, so little time.

At home – Maggie, our 70lb Labrador of Love – has a yard in which to run and romp. Here – hard to curb the romping.

I cannot complain, well, yes, I can, but I won’t - at least for now. Check back next week, if we are still here, there’s a good chance I’ll be looking for boarding school recommendations.


Anonymous said...

I am laughing so hard! Hope the electricity's back soon, but you've given the retirees enough fodder for a year of gossip!!

Kathryn Elliott said...

Hi Jane: The retirees came here for peace - Oh, the poor, poor people! We arrived and suddenly Ringling Brothers lives upstairs!

eilgav said...

God I miss you and your smart mouth Kath! :)