And they blow.
This blog looks abandoned, doesn’t it? For a writer, I don’t
seem to do much writing…not on the blog, anyway. I can’t blame it on Sandy,
either. I wasn’t on here even before she blew in. She did leave us without
power for four days, but I have to be honest about this–by that third day, the
husband and I had pretty much hit our stride. We could have gone longer; we had
a generator. We’d already given up on the fridge, and the heat was nonexistent,
but we had hot water and television and internet and the local pizza place was
still delivering. We didn’t need much more; who would?
Did it give me extra insight into a post-apocalyptic
society? Not really, I mean, we didn’t have a gas shortage and we didn’t have
to chain our generator down and I wasn’t in fear for my life. We didn’t have to
abandon our home. We didn’t have to comfort children (if you don’t count the
one small breakdown I had where the husband had to give me a bracing hug).
But of one thing I am now morally certain: I will probably not
survive an apocalypse. I’m too soft, too weak. Too mechanically challenged. Too
sentimental. Too prone to migraines and random acts of clumsiness and stupidity. (I tripped backwards down my steps the other day [only two] and sprained my ankle...who trips BACKWARDS?)
So, it’s pretty lucky I was born with a healthy imagination,
isn’t it?
