Picture a typical evening at home: TV is on, lights are on, computer is whirring along. Outside you hear traffic and see the glow from the streetlights and traffic signals.
Then nothing. No lights, no TV. You’ve transitioned from the electric world to the acoustic world.
Last night, we experienced our first DC power outage. A strong storm front, featuring strong winds, decided to have a little fun at PEPCO’s expense.
Without power, the Burrow becomes very dark and very quiet. There’s a certain tranquility in it all, something that brings out the simple things. Of course, sprite and I were prepared: the flashlights all had batteries that worked, and we knew where to find them; there were candles and an oil lamp ready to go, and we had matches closeby. We knew where the radio was so that we could have one modern comfort: radio coverage of the Patriots-Broncos football game (Denver won – not the outcome we wanted).
After that, circadian rhythms restored by the lack of light, we hit the sack – much earlier than we normally would. We marvelled at the brightness of the moonlight as it danced through the bedroom window. The cats slinked around, their purrs seemingly louder than normal, due to the lack of ambient, electronically-generated noise. We head the sound of water in the house’s pipes, noting that one of our upstairs neighbors must’ve been sneaking in a candlelit bath.
And we fell asleep peacefully.
And we’ll do it again – even if it means turning everything off on our own.