The P is O

It was very weird to sit in my house with all the modern amenities after 10 days without. The power crews got my block up and running last night but forgot to string up the wire from my house to the pole and promised my wife "we'll be back in the morning." She caught up with them down the street, and lo, they came and hooked it back up.

Having no power for 10 days sucked in ways I didn't expect, because the power missing was psychological. These were problems no money, no strength, no connections or influence could remedy, left to be hopefully solved by entities with theoretical plans to which we are not privy. Which is how most people in the world experience life all the time, not just in times of crisis.

I want to sing the praises of my wife who kept her train on the rails during this mess and my daughter who barely let it phase her at all (as demonstrated with her posing next to what my back yard looked like after the tree fell.)

Two small regrets:

• At day 8, the tattoo shop a couple blocks away had a "Fuck Gustav" graffiti mural painted on it and was doing tattoos on generator power. This is precisely why I love this place. I kinda wish I'd gone in and gotten a small Old English capital G on my arm.
• When clearing the brush in the driveway I lost my glasses; they got snagged on a branch as I was throwing debris into the incomprehensible pile lining the front of the yard and I was so sweaty that I didn't even notice they were gone until I was halfway up the driveway. Fortunately I had an old pair with the same prescription in the drawer in the kitchen, though from a style perspective, I went from a little to old to be a record store clerk to possible Civil War reenactor in a matter of seconds.