Fighting Nemo

After sequestering myself during blizzard Nemo and tending to the fire for 24 straight hours, I emerged Sunday morning to walk the dog and saw my neighbor driving by. He shouted out to me, “Are you having fun yet?!” I replied, in all earnestness, “I LOVE this!”

It’s true. I loved every second of that power outage. It was like Clan of the Cave Bears meets Cragged Mountain Farm: no electricity, just being with family, keeping the fire going, coming up with a method for cooking eggs ON the fire, and figuring out where the next bundle of non-wet wood was coming from (Thanks, Joe! Thanks, Joe’s “guy!”).

All that focus on the basics is an anxiety-ridden woman’s dream. I didn’t worry about a single one of the thoughts that typically plague my day. What are the thoughts that plague my day? Oh! I’m so excited you asked! That is the whole main idea of why I’m here!

Here are just a FEW of the things that did NOT occur to me during the 36 hours that our power was out:

  • Local, morning DJs spell the end of civilization. (Hold on. This is totally a red herring. I don’t really worry about local, morning DJs spelling the end of civilization. I KNOW they spell the end of civilization. I’ve just been meaning to write that out loud for a long time. Okay, here are my real daily worries (I hope you can still trust me)).
  • The snack I’m packing for my son is too sugary and he won’t eat any fresh fruit at school so he’s going to grow up to have a digestive disorder.
  • I really hate that headband in my daughter’s hair and even though I said her hair looks so much better down, it will still reek of an insult and will somehow AFFECT her in a bad way and this INability of mine to JUST KEEP IT TO MYSELF means that I’m a bad parent.
  • Is there some rule that if you LIVE on Matthewson, you cannot PULL to the left — close to yellow line — and wait to make your left-hand turn so that you don’t back up traffic ALL THE WAY across the bridge? (This is not so much a worry, but one of the many annoying thoughts that occur to me after I leave the house when I am forced to meet up with Bad RI Drivers combined with Entitled Rich Douchebags. NOTE: I’m not even a 1/4 mile from my home at this point).
  • I really don’t understand this technical concept I’m supposed to be documenting and it’s been taking me a REALLY long time to get it and I AM SO STUPID AND SLOW that I’m going to be fired.
  • My son comes home and just reads while he’s eating his snack. He doesn’t even talk to me. He used to talk to me all the time. He’s going to have a drug addiction.
  • There are THREE plates inserted into the same slot in the dishwasher. The only “room of my own” in this house is the kitchen, which, as a 1970’s-raised girl with strong feminist leanings, already has painful connotations. But here I am asking for things to be done a certain way and no one in my family respects my wishes. Everyone just thinks my concerns are petty. I AM petty! No, I’m not petty, no one in my family respects me period. I’M MY MOTHER!!
  • Did I take my meds today?

Thanks, Nemo, for sparing me all THAT for one blissful 36-hour period. Look! It’s the REAL Nemo!

I once listened to the director's commentary on "Finding Nemo" (???) and came to the conclusion that every Hollywood movie made by a male director is really just an exploration of that director's relationship with his father. Also see: Speilberg.
I once listened to the director’s commentary on “Finding Nemo” (???) and came to the conclusion that every Hollywood movie made by a male director is really just an exploration of that director’s relationship with his father. Also see: Spielberg.

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