We all survived the great ice storm of '08. Sounds very dramatic, doesn't it? We stayed three nights with R's parents, basking in the electric light and delighting in the swirl of a toilet flush, 
until we finally got word that our little toe of the woods had power again. It's really lucky because some folks will be stumbling through the dark until January.
In the middle of the craziness that is being homeless-- and in-between tummy bug and head cold-- I did really believe that the state was out to drive me away. Now that I'm back in the piney cottage, I'm seeing things in a new light, but I won't touch that pun.
It was so good of R's parents to let us stay with them indefinitely. They chased after Buckaroo so I could sleep off my cold, went to the store to buy me cough syrup and tea, made us dinner, washed our laundry, and brought out the antique toys to entertain the kids. There are a lot of families who had nowhere to stay and had to hit the hotels and shelters. We were fortunate.
Still, there's nothing like being the queen of one's castle, the ruler of one's roost (or co-ruler in this case). I know that it's difficult to live with me. I like my organic food, whole grains, and I read all the labels to make sure there's no high fructose corn syrup-- with the exception of certain treats. I'm noise-sensitive, and the drone of the TV makes me grumpy. The news gives me nightmares. I like to wear my pjs until late in the afternoon, and I don't always clean up my messes the minute I make them.
The miracle is that R lives this way with me, doesn't ever complain, and it is completely opposite of the way his parents live. I want to be clear that I am not in any way dissing R's parents because I know that I'm the oddball in this scenario. The average American watches about 30 hours of TV a week, so I'm clearly not the average American.
Anyway, to get back to my point: It's really hard to live with other people, and this whole ice storm and subsequent evacuation helped me to remember that I am blessed to have a house where I can live in my quirky way.
Who cares if the house is covered in knotty pine and wall-to-wall linoleum? Not me! I can run around naked if I want (although I don't, too chilly). I can eat my Lucky Charms with organic milk for lunch and follow it up with a hokey pokey dance in my fuzzy slippers. Woo hoo!
So, I could be wrong. It could be that Massachusetts really does hate me and is trying to drive me out, but maybe the universe is just trying to remind me to be thankful for what I have-- even if it is about to be buried in two feet of snow. That's OK. We're buying a generator.
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