Lights out

The wicked witch of the South brewed a nasty storm which seems to be hovered ever so eerily over our apartment complex. And has been for well over an hour.

Storms are cozy and all, but being a third floor resident has a downside when you're nervously surveying that awfully low-hanging tree and the safest place to duck and cover is the garden tub-with two cats and a husband.

Never mind that the electricity is out. The meat is spoiling, the ice cream is melting, and the Sparkletini is sweating.

While putting up dishes by candlelight, I asked Chris if this is what they did in the "olden days."

He assured me that the pioneers did, in fact, warm themselves by the glow of candles and their MacBooks.





Time to eat the contents of the icebox before it all goes to waste.

- Emily McP