Here’s what happens when you lose power for eight days.
On the first day you go about your business - hey wait there is no business because the internet is down. It 's 2012 - they have systems in place, don't they? We would have power in a couple of hours. I put all the food in the freezer, got out the flashlights, a few candles, a few books, no big deal. By six, it was getting dark. Twelve dark hours stretched ahead of me. I tried to read by candlelight and then flashlight but I couldn’t concentrate. I got out the transistor radio and listened to “talk radio.” Talk radio is all about political extremes. The only station I could get came from Connecticut and the host was an Obama basher. He kept bashing and bashing.
I turned off the radio and there was nothing to do but think.
I found out that thinking is overrated. Thinking is awful. I realized I hadn’t thought in a long time and liked it that way.
I tried to stop thinking and pay attention to my breathing.
I finally fell asleep.
I woke up two hours later fully rested.
After a long, long time I fell asleep again and woke at 5 a.m.
I was never so happy to see 5 a.m.
On day three I opened the refrigerator and the stench punched me.
I got a big black garbage bag and placed all the food into it.
When the refrigerator was empty I noticed that things had spilled into it over the years. Red things had spilled into it and also green and brown things. The spills had fossilized. I was happy to have a legitimate chore and began to scrub the refrigerator. After a couple of hours, the refrigerator looked beautiful - white, clean and empty. I yearned to decorate the refrigerator with new food but that was the road to madness.
I began to dust books in the bookshelves with a small brush. This was not as satisfying as the refrigerator so I abandoned the project.
After eight days of this life The Stockholm Syndrome set in. This psychological phenomenon is also known as capture-bonding in which hostages express empathy and have positive feelings towards their captors (in this case LIPA).
I was still looking down the street for LIPA trucks but I was also wishing for the power to stay away so I could live this simple, media-free life.
I raked leaves, visited the library, cleaned out the silverware drawer, organized my socks. I was decoding Fifty Shades of Humility prior to joining an order of nuns.