I don't know if work-anon exists, but Sandy came close. For about 10 days.
At first, the forced vacation was fun. My family and I were safe, our home was safe, and if worse came to worse, we could cook hot dogs over the fire pit for dinner. Which, we of course did. I even had flashbacks to my days in summer camp.
I assumed that if nothing else, I'd be able to write. All I needed for that was a pen and paper, which is how I start most writing projects, with the only exception being this blog and my food stories. I thought that as long as the kids were busy and playing I'd have free time. After all, there was no laundry to do (I wasn't ready to go back to the washboard and bucket just yet), no errands to run (power lines and trees everywhere), no homework to oversee (school was canceled for a week), and no sports practices. Time was mine and it seemed I had plenty of it.
I could not have been more wrong.
There was no free time, or when there was, it was dark, and we went to bed. At 9:00. All of us.
What really led to the lack of free time, and what I hadn't counted on, was the shift my husband and I made to the 2012 version of survival mode:
- Where is the food? How much are we making? (I didn't want leftovers as there was no place to store them and no way to heat them up)
- How are we cooking? Grill, stove, or fire pit? (I still had the gas for my stove)
- When are we starting? It gets dark inside at about 4:00 and it's not easy to cook in the dark.
- Where are we sleeping? Let's set the beds up early (we all stayed in one room for warmth) while it's still light out.
- Is there anything that needs to go to my sister's to be charged?
- Do we have food for breakfast?
Am I cured and completely detoxed? No, that apparently was temporary.