I am taking a huge risk with the post I am about to write. There is the very real possibility that it will not land well with some of you. I mean, I am in the midst of a six week vacation on a beautiful lake in Maine where the temperatures and humidity levels have been near perfect. By writing this I risk coming across like the guy on his private yacht off the shores of some Greek Island in the Adriatic complaining that the crackers on his seven meat, eight cheese charcuterie tray are too stale…or even worse, like that annoying Dodger fan who whines about how many injuries his 400 million dollar roster has suffered. Nevertheless, I forge ahead.
Roughly 48 hours ago, a freaky storm cut a path through Maine’s mid-coast region. The entire thing lasted maybe 15 minutes or so, very little rain, no lightening and no thunder. When it was over a ton of people were without power—including us. What this storm did have was tornado style winds. All of the furniture on our dock was swept away. Other people’s docks were lifted off their foundations. Trees were snapped in two bringing down power lines all over the place. Thirty minutes after the storm passed it was gorgeous outside, 75 and sunny, sky the crystal clear blue of Paul Newman’s eyes.
We immediately alerted Tif, the all-powerful, all-knowing superstar of the rental market around here and also a wonderful friend. She assured us that all would be well soon. Then we texted our homeowner buddies on the lake to get their take on the situation. “No worries,” was the general consensus. “Happens all the time up here, it’s part of the Maine experience”, they all agreed. This all happened around 2:00 pm Thursday afternoon. All of our homeowner buddies had their power restored almost right away since they are all on the eastern shore of Quantabacook. All of us chumps on the west side were not so lucky.
The following 48 hours were instructive of several things, not the least of which is the fact that neither Pam nor I would have made very good pioneers. As fate would have it, Pam and Kaitlin had started watching a remake of Little House on the Prairie week or so ago. Compared to the Engle clan, we look like a couple of helpless babies—although I should add that I was able to retrieve all of the deck furniture from the depths of the lake without a trip to the ER, so I’ve got that going for me.
Luckily, Paula and Ron are staying twenty minutes away from us on another lake, and they never lost power, so we were able to go over there the past two nights for dinner and a shower. Also, we were fortunate enough to have spectacular weather Friday, so the house never got hot. Still, it was embarrassing how annoyed we were that our phones and iPads were constantly running out of battery life. Aside from the annoyance of life without electricity, life has continued on its merry way. I caught the biggest bass I’ve ever caught up here a couple nights ago, and Pam persevered through the pitch black darkness of the house at night by continuing her cross stitching efforts with the aid of a battery operated light that drapes around her neck, shining light directly on the project at hand. I swear that women always finds a way to get it done.
All the while we kept getting updates from Tif via text—“should be back on by 8:00!” Then once 8:00 came and went—“Lying bastards! Now they’re saying 2:00! But today was going to be the day, no question about it—“Noon. Power will be on by noon!” Then, bless her heart, she starts apologizing all over the place like an act of God was somehow her fault. At one point she even offers to pay for us to replenish the fridge once the power was restored! Sometimes, she’s a little crazy.
But then, around noon today the power suddenly came on and we were so grateful…until five minutes later it went dark again. That head fake was painful. Despite overcast skies and windy conditions I headed out on the lake to take my frustrations out on the fish. A little over 3 hours later it finally came on for good. Pam is now in Belfast buying new groceries. I have finally taken a proper shower, shaved, and am now telling my whiny story to people who are probably rolling their eyes as they read. Well…sure, its not famine, pestilence or bloodshed…but you try going 48 hours without your back-massaging heating pad!
I’m in a four-story loft apartment in a small village in the Pyrénées Occidentales, France, with no AC. So far, I kept seven pets alive through three heat waves, one up to 102 degrees. I’m going into the fourth heat wave this week. On July 5, a wildfire hit this village, Ille sur Têt, and I got four cats and three dogs out in a broken wagon to an evacuation bus on foot in heavy smoke. I’m trying to move to a cooler, safer part of France now. If people are pushed far enough, they are still pioneers. It’s better than being in the US now with all the division, despite the “hardship.”
ReplyDeleteSounds terrible! Back in my hometown it’s also been very hot and humid for most of the summer, upper 90’s for days at a time. But most people have AC which makes it much easier. So sorry to hear about your poor pets. They are lucky to have you. As far as the US goes, we aren’t nearly as divided as the news portrays us to be. This too shall pass.
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