When you’ve become accustomed to candlelight, electric light is incredibly white by comparison. Also quite blinding. The eye readjusts fairly quickly, though there are still moments when you want to dim things a bit.
All of which is to say that our power is back on, as of about 4 AM today. By my calculations, that means it was out for something like 52 hours, give or take. Science Girl heard on the radio that there are parts of southern Rainier Valley that are still dark, as well as some 400,000 folks around the greater Puget Sound
area.
Saturday was cold. Not Midwestcold, of course, but low 40s, I’d guess, with overnight temperatures below freezing. So while it could have been much, much worse, it was pretty inconvenient to be without heat. My ensemble yesterday consisted, from the skin out, of the following: boxers and socks (duh); workboots, levi’s, thick long-sleeve T-shirt, hobo gloves, and baseball cap; turtleneck T; flannel shirt; hoodie; fleece jacket. That’s also pretty much how I went to bed, although obviously the boots were off. When the heat finally came back on, I felt like I was being roasted alive. But, y’know, in a good way.
There was power at the grocery store about a mile away, so we were able to get hot food. Well, warm food, anyway. I’ll tell you, supermarket jambalaya is nothing compared to the real thing, but when you’re cold, it’s truly wonderful.
Big big thanks to our neighbors who provided us with hot water and offered to let us cook on their gas stove, and to the folks at Seattle City Light for getting the power back on as quickly as they did. There was a lot of overtime work done on days off, I’m sure, and it is greatly appreciated.
I didn’t go down into the backyard to look at the damage done by the tree until just a moment ago. That’s partially due to the ice that was on the deck yesterday, but mostly because I just really didn’t want to see how close I’d actually come to being squashed like a bug. Which, as it turns out, was closer than I’d originally thought; the gutter on the corner of the kitchen was taken out - about three feet from where I sit as I type this, and where I was sitting Friday morning.
I don’t think I can describe what it feels like to know that I’m only still here through dumb luck. I’m still sorta processing it. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna bore you with a bunch of introspection about my tiny life in the uncaring cosmos. Suffice it to say that it’s weird and unnerving and I’m more than a little spooked, and we’ll leave it at that for now.