The Storm, Part 3

What I learned from the storm, after four days without electricity:
that none of the work I do creates a tear in the fabric of existence if it is not done for a few days
that I have a very strong back
that I have friends who love me and call when they hear that I’m in trouble
that I always need to duck my head when climbing up the first couple of steps from the crawlspace beneath my house
that waking up every two hours to keep the woodstove blazing makes for vivid dreaming
that my wife looks even more ravishing in candlelight
that there are a bunch of people who miss Jewdayo when it doesn’t arrive in their inbox each morning
that the usual sense of urgency and anxiety that drives my busy days is mostly an exercise in self-importance
that I am surrounded by resources: food, water, bathrooms, cars, cellphones, Internet connections. I do not live in Haiti. But millions of people do live in Haiti, where there’s nothing even to loot
that I could never be happy as an Eskimo and I can’t understand how anyone could be happy as an Eskimo
that a washcloth dipped into hot water is a great luxury and sensual delight
that indoor plumbing is still the greatest
that my tropical fish are hardier than I expected
that I could live in one room as long as I lived with my darling
that Thomas Alva Edison was a very important human being