The End Might Be Near

After a few days away, I came home to find a book left behind by our friendly cat-sitter.  Tom Brown's Field Guide to City and Suburban Survival is a must-read for anyone planning on being alive for the next few years. I picked it up and have been freaking myself out reading it non-stop. I am now armed with the knowledge that I am ready for exactly nothing except possibly a night out on the town.

As its author says on the first page, "Living in a house without utilities is not too different from living in a cave." Coincidentally, just last week I experienced that firsthand when a mammoth storm blew through New York's Hudson Valley, where we share a vacation home. My husband and I were just paying for our groceries, planning a dinner of roast chicken and all the trimmings for friends who were set to arrive that evening, when we heard from a neighbor that all was dark back in our little hamlet. What to do? We forged on, confident that the power would come back soon enough to cook. It was not. Mitch, a.k.a Paleo Man, was undaunted; he cut up the big bird and threw it on the Weber grill, along with the vegetables. I was impressed. But try as he might, he couldn't make water, and the pump that usually brought it into our pipes was dead. Boring details about candles and batteries and not flushing toilets can be skipped since we've all been through it, but only for a little while. What if it lasts longer than a day or two, or weeks, like after Hurricane Katrina? What if it lasts forever? As my father liked to say about almost everything, "It's possible."

According to Tom Brown, "All of us have experienced moments when  the lights flicker and we are plunged into the darkness of the past. In those moments we have only our own resources. We become islands. And without our accustomed connections, some of us survive and some of us perish. " I would perish, no doubt about it. Just this morning, back in Maine, my power went out for like a minute while I was cooking my oatmeal and I wanted to die. "Oh shit, there's no ground coffee," was the only thought I had. I fared even worse without my computer for the last five days, after it crashed no reason. Naturally I couldn't write anything, or look for freelance work online, or play any of my stupid addicting games. What would I do? How does one replace playing Words With Friends after the lights go out--not to mention heating oil, gas for the car and--oh yeah--food?

I've seen some chinks in our allegedly airtight civilization this past week, including downed trees and electrocuted fish, and have handled them miserably, so if disaster strikes, don't call me. Instead, get the book, read the book, be ready.