Unplugged

We had a big wave of thunderstorms here today, and BANG, out went the power. Fortunately, I had finished giving the barracudas -- I mean boys -- lunch, and afternoon naptime was almost upon us. While it was pretty dark outside, we had enough light to play by until it was time to hit the sack.

Once the boys went down I found myself in a quiet, dark house. I couldn't do laundry or dishes (we're on a well, so no power means no water, too). I couldn't use the vacuum or see well enough to clean. I couldn't cook anything, though I had a whole freezer full of food that was slowly defrosting. I couldn't even check out the weather online or blog!

What to do?

I started thinking about my grandmother and how she lived without power for many years. You can bet that the rain never stopped her from tending her garden, baking, cooking, sewing, milking cows or any of a thousand other things that needed to be done. And, of course, the wood stove would always work, as would the treadle sewing machine and the hand wringer for the wash. Her tools worked as long as she worked. Mine do not.

Then I realized: I am in a house that is quiet and dark. All the children are asleep and will be for the next two hours or so. And because I am not an idiot, I did the only sensible thing. I TOOK A NAP.

Yes, despite having slept all night last night, courtesy of content kiddos, I laid myself down and snoozed peacefully. Without guilt. Because, really, what else could I have possibly done that would have been more productive than that?

(That is a rhetorical question folks. Anyone who answers it will be banned from this blog forever!)