Lights Out, Night's Out

It was one of those nights where I was in the mood for, you know, well, writing. Nothing planned specifically, the schedule was clear, my desk was in relatively good shape – and then the power went out. And it stayed out for a few hours, those few precious hours that I called a free evening.

If there is anything I hate – even more than the Calgary Flames – it's being stuck in the dark just when you're about to do something in the light. I think I hate that more than misplacing my false teeth as I walk through the doors at the Gold Corral. Even more than someone wanting my opinion on an NDP-led government, especially when that 'someone' is a dentist and I am sitting in his chair with a rubber sheet blanketing my mouth.

In a different light, if I can use the word 'light' here, a dark house can almost be romantic. Well, except for the seven kids that are at various stages of healthy reaction to too many candles but not enough computers, too much time on their hands but not enough motivation to do anything creative.

Some of us got a little creative and tried to play a board game. I don't know what it was called because it was, well, too dark to see its name. Anyways, I think I won. But it is really hard to write words down and add up the score by candlelight – especially when it is one candle shared by four players.

For an encore, I started to read a book. I am always starting (and finishing) to read a book, it seems. But this is possibly the one time I wish I was reincarnated – even though I don't believe in that stuff – and came back as an octopus. Let's see now: one tentacle for a flashlight, one for a candle, one to hold the book, one to turn each page, one to grab the coffee to drink as I read...

I don't know about you, but a power outage gives me a feeling of vulnerability and helplessness. My paranoia has me thinking someone's going to break in while it is so dark. And I feel helpless because I can't find anything I put down; at least when the power goes out I have an excuse.

So much that I do depends on power - be it a chore (washing dishes), a hobby (writing columns), or a habit (working routine). I think we could do with less power (= more outages) if we knew in advance that the power was going out for a few hours. We could adjust our schedule, our meals, and even our needs for those times. To be forewarned, they say, is no be forearmed. And to be forearmed means you know where the candle is.

So I suppose the element of surprise – in addition to vulnerability and helplessness - comes into play here. It is an unexpected inconvenience that is part of the overall nettle here. If, for example, I knew that the power was going to be off for three hours tonight, I would have planned to cut my sons' hair, given them tap-dancing lessons, and shown off my most recent hobby, knife-throwing.

Happy to say, no one tried to break in. I don't think they could have found the house without the streetlights on, even there aren't any streetlights here in the Back Seventy. And, again, happy to say, I found everything I wanted because I didn't really want anything until the lights came on. By the light of day I was able to misplace everything once again.

So, thanks to the Fortis people who did whatever it took to light up my life. You've got me back in the mood for, you know, well, writing. I think I'll stick with something, uh, light tonight.