It was around noon on a Monday when my computer screen suddenly faded to black. I spent a few minutes unplugging it and plugging it back in, futzing with the outlet and pressing every button I could find. Nothing worked. The monitor must be broken, I assumed. Until I noticed the lights in my office were not on, and the house, normally humming with the sounds of multiple appliances, had gone silent.
It must be the breaker, I thought.
This was surprisingly astute, given I barely know what a breaker is, let alone where I could find one in my home. So I called the person in my family who does know where the breaker box is and knows what one does with a breaker. He talked me through how to switch the levers in the dark, just like Laura Dern in “Jurassic Park,” minus the surprise severed arm.
Also minus the successful restoration of power.
A few texts with neighbors confirmed the power was indeed out for the entire street and no one knew when it might be restored. That’s when my primitive instincts kicked in. I began hunting and gathering just as my ancestors once had. But instead of hunting venison and gathering berries, I was hunting for portable phone chargers and gathering them on the kitchen table.
They were all partially charged, and combined I had enough battery power to create a hotspot on my phone and connect to the Wi-Fi. I applauded my own resourcefulness and celebrated as I imagined the first man or woman who first started a fire did.
The celebration lasted until my laptop battery died.
Then it was just me, alone in a powerless home, learning the hard way just how much I rely on electricity throughout my day.
Without thinking, I tried to run the dishwasher. I hit the start button five times before remembering that the dishwasher is, indeed, an electronic device.
When I went to the bathroom, I tried to switch the light on more than once.
I pulled out the toaster to toast the bread for a sandwich, before coming to the horrible realization that my bread would have to remain plain. It was one of the worst sandwiches I’ve ever had.
When the school called and announced that they, too, were without power and so were sending kids home early, I legitimately did not know if I would be able to drive my car out of the garage to pick up my children. As it turns out, garage door openers have a battery, so I could get out. Once my kids were home, I fielded no fewer than 745 questions about why the TV wouldn’t turn on, why the iPad wouldn’t charge, and why the windowless playroom was so dark.
For a few hours, we lived like we were in the Stone Age. I used 5G to access the Rocky Mountain Power website and refresh the updates page every 30 seconds, and my children played with the physical toys they suddenly remembered they owned.
Before long the daylight was starting to fade and the house was growing cold. So I chopped down a tree in the backyard, chopped that tree into firewood, and built a fire for heat and light.
Just kidding. I didn’t do that.
What I did do was pile everyone into the car and drive to a restaurant because I wasn’t about to make dinner in a dark house. By the time we returned home just before bedtime, the lights were back on.
I’m not sure what we would have done had the electricity not been restored. Frozen in our sleep or stayed in a hotel, I guess.
Obviously, my five hours without power hardly compare to some of the more significant power outages in recent history. And I’m grateful my family and I are all in good health and can withstand an electrical disruption every now and then. But I still didn’t enjoy the experience.
People sometimes wax (or wane) poetic about the challenges of our modern time. And yes, there are many complications related to living in the digital age.
But I can now confidently say my family and I would struggle to survive beyond a single afternoon in any other era of history. And if we did survive, we would do a lot of complaining. I believe some people when they say they were born in the wrong generation. Just like I believe I was born in exactly the right one.