OUR SITUATION TURNED DESPERATE around the time Meryl Streep’s infatuation with Chris Cooper began to spell trouble. My wife and I were watching Adaptation on my laptop when a message popped up: “You are now running on reserve battery power. You need to plug the power adaptor into your computer and into a power outlet.” Easy for you to say, MacBook. We were in our 26th hour of powerlessness.
The Blizzard of 2013 had introduced itself to Plymouth the day before, on Friday, with a lazy ballet of snowflakes that by nightfall organized into a full-on assault. Short of buying a generator, we were prepared to “hunker down,” which apparently is something done only during inclement weather. The fireplace in our house had long been covered over, but the kitchen stove burns gas. We had enough candles to illuminate a good-size vigil, there were no vacancies on the wine rack, and keeping food cold promised to be easy. Not that there weren’t serious questions, such as whether the DVR would still record Girls.