Powerless

That's what my house was for 75 hours this weekend.  Without power. Lacking electricity.  And yet, life went on.  Pretty much as normal.  A few more dirty clothes accumulating than usual.  No whir of the air conditioner.  A wet pony tail for me rather than blown dry locks.  And yet, by hour 62, we were all a little less vibrant, bored with each other, bored with ourselves, frustrated by our inability to make things work the way they usually do.  There was plenty to do and plenty that could be done and yet, nothing we wanted to do except that which was impossible without power.  Why did we feel so unplugged?  Creatures of habit, slaves to life's conveniences...maybe?  I'm not really sure.  I am only sure of something I have suspected my whole life.  I would have made a lousy pioneer woman.