The day the lights went out in SoCal

The thing is, you think you're prepared, and you're totally not.

I grew up harvesting the earth, I planned my life around the weather, I made shit grow. 

I once owned a hunting tag.

I thought I was tough.

Yet I found myself at a loss when the lights went out in SoCal Thursday afternoon.  I wasn't prepared for that noise.

I was sitting at work, bemoaning the fact that I have a mere two ceiling fans in a room bigger than my first house.  With 47 pre-algebra students right after lunch.

It sucked.  Hard.

I forced myself to suffer a little more and stay late to get stuff done.

At least I would have, but the power went out at 3:45.  I was more than okay going home to my air-conditioned house.  Finally, I have a house with central air.

The power was out there, too.

We walked the dog at the lake, heard the generators kick on, assumed we had electricity again, headed home.

Power was still out, neighbors were getting drunk on the front lawn.  Our house was hot as balls.

We played Yahtzee, ate cheese, crackers, and rapidly melting Popsicles for dinner.  Drank quasi-cold beer.

After losing two straight games, I was over it.

We grabbed our chairs and went to camp out on the lawn with the neighbors, who were three margaritas in (whores).

I only had a beer, I got discipline like that.  Plus, I didn't want to get drunk in front of people I don't really know.

I met all of my neighbors for the first time (what, it's only been eighteen months, hardly time to get to know the neighbors) and contemplated life without modern technology.

We were forced to interact with each other.  There was no TV, no computer (I totally still had Internet on my phone but only a car to charge it with, now we were roughing it), no lights...nothing but the bright moon, stars, and the sound of the neighbor's generator til the power came back on at one in the morning.

It was, oddly, intriguing.

But also?  A piece of my country soul died today when I realized my life is not simple.  Not at all.