Being without power is wearying. It's fun for a couple of days, you rally for another and then it just gets old. You want to be in your home, to just be there. Maybe you have stuff to do, maybe you don't, but to be uprooted like that is both mentally and physically exhausting.
We finally have power. Based on the blinking clock I found yesterday afternoon it would appear the power returned to our home around 8:30 AM Tuesday morning. So, doing the math, that means we were without power for 107 hours (4 days, 5 nights, 11 hours). Wow. It doesn't sound like a lot. I guess because 4 days 'in general' doesn't seem like a lot of time. But take my word for it, being without the basics like heat and showers (even if you can find them elsewhere) means that time ticks slooooowly.
Through all of this I have gained a heightened sense of how good I have it. I have enough clothes to keep me warm during the day, and enough blankets to let us sleep warmly through the night. Not everyone has that. I have running water. Yes, it's cold, but I have it. There are places in the world that only have access to disease-infested waters, yet they are forced to drink it because water must be consumed. I have friends and family, who were kind enough to offer us places to stay and we did just that on 2 of our 5 nights.
I wonder what it's like for people out there with fewer comforts, with fewer friends, with fewer options. May God bless them.
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