Survivor: Ice Storm Edition

Having grown up in a farming family, it’s inbred in me to keep an eye on the weather forecast. When the meteorologists started posting maps showing my location solidly in the pink range (meaning freezing rain) of the upcoming storm, I took action. I always keep bottled drinking water (our well water isn’t fit for consumption), but I also started filling the empty jugs with tap water. I moved stuff from our refrigerator’s freezer section to the chest freezer in the basement. My husband made sure our generator was in good working order. I worked frantically on several writing projects that were almost due and sent them off. I also worked frantically on my tax prep and printed out my spreadsheets. I made sure all of my electronics were fully charged. 

My husband even took a vacation day on Friday in case the roads were impassible. 

I rescheduled a workshop I was supposed to teach Saturday on Zoom. Just in case. 

The rain started Wednesday. By lunchtime on Thursday, I noticed ice collecting on the shrub by my front porch.

The roads, at that point were clear. Hubby made it home from work with no problems Thursday evening. 

About 7:00 p.m., the power went out. But it came right back on. I hurried to brush my teeth, wash my face, and get into my jammies. 

At 8:00, the house fell dark and silent. I called on my cell to report it and was told by an automated voice that power would be restored by 11:00 p.m. that night. I knew they were lying. 

Our house is all-electric. ALL electric. So when the power goes out, we have nothing. No heat. No water. No stove. No phone. We went to bed. By 3 a.m., it started getting cold. Kensi wrapped herself around my head like a feline cap. I didn’t complain. 

Overnight, the rain turned to snow. 

Friday morning, Hubby set up the Big Buddy propane heater in the middle of our living room. It quickly took the chill off. He also fired up the generator, ran the wiring through the hole he’d long ago drilled in the floor of one of our kitchen cabinets. I connected a surge protector into which I plugged the fridge, our phone chargers, and my laptop. He ran a second power cord to the freezer in the basement. We sat around the heater and proclaimed we were camping. 

We used to love to go camping. 

This was not the same. 

Keep in mind, I was in limited contact with the outside world. Accessing the internet meant using my cell’s data plan. I subscribe to the lowest priced one available because most of the time, I’m on our home wi-fi. So every moment spent online was chewing through this month’s meager allotted data. 

Kensi, by the way, had fallen in love with the Big Buddy heater. Cats love warmth and Big Buddy was warm. But she’s not the brightest bulb in the box where an open flame is concerned. She would edge too close. I would snatch her away before her whiskers singed. We set her kitty cave close, but not too close, to the heater. She liked that. 

Friday night, I slept on the daybed next to the Big Buddy. Kensi slept with me until about 3 a.m. when even Big Buddy couldn’t completely battle the chill (8 degrees outside). She got down and plopped herself about six inches from the flame. From then until daylight, I had to keep removing her from the warmest spot in the house. 

I did not get much sleep. 

On Saturday, Hubby drove to town for more propane and gasoline and returned with reports of trees and lines down EVERYWHERE. A neighbor texted me that the power company estimated our service would be restored by 11 p.m. on SUNDAY. I sent out texts to let folks know I would not be participating in two other Zoom meetings. 

The hours ticked by. Hubby set up shop at the kitchen table and tied flies in anticipation of spring and fishing. I started writing a new book. I read. 

I cooked on our Coleman camp stove. We used paper plates and plastic spoons as much as possible because washing dishes involved heating water on the camp stove. Rinsing them meant using the bottled tap water I’d wisely collected. It’s just not a good set up. Workable, tolerable, yes. Good? Not so much. 

Hubby kept staring at the light over the kitchen table, willing it to come on. Even his recliner is electric. He kept punching the button to raise the footrest. It didn’t work. 

Saturday night was a repeat of Friday where Kensi and Big Buddy were concerned. I didn’t get much sleep again. 

By Sunday, the sun came out. The ice on the trees looked like blown glass and crystal. 

Despite the beauty outside, inside we were feeling pretty grungy. We’d been brushing our teeth, but outright bathing wasn’t an option. 

I figured the extra layer of dirt might help keep me warm. 

But Hubby had to go back to work on Monday, and they frown upon having their employees look and smell like a vagrant. We drove to my mother-in-law’s house to get hot baths. On the way, we passed SEVEN out-of-state power crew trucks working on our line! 

On our way home, we picked up sandwiches at Subway and again passed the repair crew. 

I should mention the conditions. They were working in a thicket of ice-encrusted overgrown brush and storm-flattened trees. Electric poles had snapped. Lines were down. It was COLD outside. I refuse to gripe about the time we had to “camp” in our living room. Well, at least the gripes aren’t aimed at the power company. It was a freakin’ disaster out there. 

Sunday evening, my neighbor texted me. The power company had robo-called her to announce repairs had been made and our power should have been restored. It hadn’t been. She let them know. Then she let me know. I may have cried a little. 

About an hour later, a check of the power company’s website stated our power should be back on by Monday, noon. Another neighbor who lives near the aforementioned thicket texted us that the crew was back at work. At least we hadn’t gone back to the bottom of the list. 

But we endured a fourth night with Big Buddy. A fourth night of minimal and very light sleep as I kept a close watch on Kensi. 

Monday, 4:00 a.m., every light in our house came on, my printers chirped to life in my office, our security system started talking to us. And the furnace started running.

 I don’t think I’ve ever before jumped out of bed at that hour and started dancing. 

We survived. I got a good start on my next Zoe Chambers mystery. And I have a renewed appreciation for the 21^st Century.