Waiting for the next winter storm…

This morning the wind tore at the trees, bent the shrubs and lofted fallen leaves from across the street to our yard.  The sky was a dark indigo cast a baleful half-light over the neighbourhood. I lit a small votive in the kitchen window, poured water into pots to boil and sorted out a plan for what to feed my husband on his return from work should the power go out and stay out.  Thought about the boil-water advisory posted last week and how shoppers at Costco, in desperation to stockpile water. came to blows at the bottled water section .  It occurred to me how much urban and suburban people are completely vulnerable to interruptions of supply of the most basic necessities of life.  Hysteria and panic exist under a surface of “life is good” and of a certain complacency. A friend came over for tea this afternoon.  We sat and chatted and I gave her old green-glass flower holders and a sterling inlaid footed dish to place them in.  She wanted to give me a cappuchino maker, since she has quit drinking coffee. Geez, here I was boiling water in anticipation of a power outage and the continuing boil-water advisory….why on earth would I need another electric appliance? The whole idea of this is as perverse as a dream, and makes about as much sense.  So we have this “waking life” here in the suburbs, with strange surreal juxtapositions.  So ends today’s missive…it’s funny as it started out as a Bulwer-Lytton-ian bit of purple prose…. “It was a dark and stormy….”

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