Losing electricity is like giving birth. Oh, the pain, the trauma, then those nice Snohomish County PUD crews come along and turn on the lights and furnace, and all is forgotten.
Our agony subsided at 4 p.m. Sunday after 64 hours with no power. Jingle bells are a lovely sound, but nothing beats the delightful rumble of big white PUD trucks rolling down your dark street.
It was kind of fun Thursday night when the lights snapped off. Scrambling for candles. Pulling extra quilts out of the closet. Thinking, in half a day, all will be well.
But no. Even us snooty folks in parts of Mill Creek were doomed to freeze. The agony of it all came into focus while I was driving from Everett to Shoreline on Friday afternoon for an interview. Fording through blank traffic lights one car at a time made for a cruddy haul.
Longing for the comfort of home and finding the power still out was harsh.
My husband, Chuck, was happy as an elf, stoking up his little generator on the front sidewalk. He cleverly contained it with plywood walls so the noise and smoke weren’t too annoying. It put out enough juice for one TV, but couldn’t handle our furnace or even a small space heater.
Football. I heard football all weekend while I huddled in bed with radio earphones. Bing Crosby gets mighty old. My kitties were miserable. Big Tony doesn’t like to be cuddled, but he welcomed the warmth of a fleece sweatshirt over his back. Benny huddled under a comforter on the bed, peering out with an angry eye.
My cats didn’t understand arctic surroundings. I avoided liquids because it was such a cold walk to the bathroom.
What with Christmas looming, it’s not a good time to spend money going out to eat. Sure, Shari’s is just half a mile away with hot waffles, but shivering in your house, it seems like it will be extra brrrrrr getting into a cold car and going someplace.
We have friends and family with extra beds and heat, but we are old and crotchety and didn’t want to abandon our house or pets. What a thrill at 9 a.m. Saturday to wake to the smell of breakfast. I got bacon in bed. Hot slabs. Pioneer Chuck found a propane camping stove in the garage.
Could we have died from indoor propane? I know you shouldn’t use charcoal briquettes in the living room. But what might kill us is eating cheese and mayonnaise all weekend that were left out on the counter. We decided it was colder outside than inside the dead refrigerator.
When you expire from Best Foods poisoning, I hope you go quick.
Monday morning, we stuffed the garbage can with yogurt, sour cream, thawed mozzarella sticks, hot fudge sauce, eggs and ranch dip. Hey, this no-power stuff will be expensive as we replace our food.
The goods should have gone to a food bank, but who knew we would be out of power for 64 hours?
For those of you still without electricity, I feel your pain. Chuck found time between kickoffs to finish his letter to Santa.
No sugarplums are dancing in that head.
He wants a bigger generator.
Kristi O’Harran: 425-339-3451 or oharran@heraldnet.com.
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