Sandy
I'm back online after being without power for three days. I live in central New Jersey, and almost everyone around here lost power. Some are still without it. The street pictured here was still without it last night--they are finally starting to remove this tree today.
Being without power is a humbling experience. It makes you think about the Amish and people in past centuries--just what did they do all day? Of course they worked, and then went to bed after sundown. I had prepared fairly well. I bought one of those "Olde Brooklyn Lanterns," which has an LED light in it. It didn't exactly illuminate the room, but it had a wider and brighter scope than a candle or flashlight. I bought a lot of canned goods, but learned that I couldn't cook because, even though I have a gas stove, I have an electric pilot light. I also didn't have heat. Again--gas, but the burner is operated by electric. Somehow I had hot water all through the outage, so I could feel clean, and the toilet flushed.
So I went to the store (which was running on a generator) and bought some Pop-Tarts and cookies. My Kindle was charged, so I read, but I could only read for so long. Tuesday I didn't have work so ended up going to sleep at 8 o'clock (sleeping was the alternative to reading). I went to work delivering pizzas on Wednesday, which was good, because it got me out of the house and it was busy, busy, busy, and no one wanted to cook. I was also able to eat hot food there.
Without television or Internet (I spent a few hours online in the waiting room of a Pep Boys) I wasn't aware of the full extent of the damage. I felt like one of those people in an apocalypse movie, where a plague or nuclear war has shut everything down and no one knows the big picture. After a day without human contact, I got into the car and when I heard the radio it was a jolt--yes, there is an outside world.
The devastation on the Jersey shore and Staten Island, in particular, dwarfs my problems. As I write this, everything is pretty much back to normal (someone from maintenance will have to relight my pilot light, but I hardly use the stove anyway). Those people will be dealing with the consequences of this for years. I've always thought I would like a home on the waterfront. Now I'm not so sure. Maybe the mountains, on a nice quiet lake.
Being without power is a humbling experience. It makes you think about the Amish and people in past centuries--just what did they do all day? Of course they worked, and then went to bed after sundown. I had prepared fairly well. I bought one of those "Olde Brooklyn Lanterns," which has an LED light in it. It didn't exactly illuminate the room, but it had a wider and brighter scope than a candle or flashlight. I bought a lot of canned goods, but learned that I couldn't cook because, even though I have a gas stove, I have an electric pilot light. I also didn't have heat. Again--gas, but the burner is operated by electric. Somehow I had hot water all through the outage, so I could feel clean, and the toilet flushed.
So I went to the store (which was running on a generator) and bought some Pop-Tarts and cookies. My Kindle was charged, so I read, but I could only read for so long. Tuesday I didn't have work so ended up going to sleep at 8 o'clock (sleeping was the alternative to reading). I went to work delivering pizzas on Wednesday, which was good, because it got me out of the house and it was busy, busy, busy, and no one wanted to cook. I was also able to eat hot food there.
Without television or Internet (I spent a few hours online in the waiting room of a Pep Boys) I wasn't aware of the full extent of the damage. I felt like one of those people in an apocalypse movie, where a plague or nuclear war has shut everything down and no one knows the big picture. After a day without human contact, I got into the car and when I heard the radio it was a jolt--yes, there is an outside world.
The devastation on the Jersey shore and Staten Island, in particular, dwarfs my problems. As I write this, everything is pretty much back to normal (someone from maintenance will have to relight my pilot light, but I hardly use the stove anyway). Those people will be dealing with the consequences of this for years. I've always thought I would like a home on the waterfront. Now I'm not so sure. Maybe the mountains, on a nice quiet lake.
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