So... hey
I feel like that jerk friend who never calls. I suppose you guys deserve more than a soundbite. Allow me to elaborate.
We don't have electricity. The rest of my neighborhood has it now. We haven't had it since returning to the city. The storm ripped the powerlines from the pole off our house. They were hanging down in tatters when we got home. Luckily, because I walked into them more than I should have, they were dead.
Brendan and I have become masters of our little house of darkness. We have candles, flashlights, and oil lamps (for that extra romantic atmosphere). For a while, we just went to bed when it got dark. I call it being on chicken time. Life got easier once we got the gas turned on. I bribed some Entergy guys with cookies and lo, three of them crawled under my house and turned the gas on. We had a little hot tea party afterwards, and the next day, when we got a water heater to replace the flooded one, we all had steamy showers. Good times.
Speaking of the flood -- our house did not get water. According to the nasty waterline on the blocks my house sits on, for my house is raised and awesome, the water had about an inch to spare. Dodged a bullet there.
I spent almost three months helping my neighbor and his contractor/best friend guy rebuild a house. I have new scars and rougher hands. It's pretty cool.
Easily ninety percent of the people I knew prior to the storm did not come back afterwards. When we came back, New Orleans was devoid of children and almost entirely devoid of other women. Very surreal. Kind of lonely. We've managed to cobble together a good little group of friends, though, so don't worry.
In closing, I'll make up a quick FAQ for the curious.
Why on earth did you go back?
I am touched in the head.
What's it like living with no power?
Depends on the weather. Sometimes quite cold.
Coldest recorded temperature inside?
Thirty-nine degrees F, kiddies. Ever slept in three pairs of pants?
How do you survive?
I ran an extension cord out my back door to my landlady's, and plugged in my fridge. No, really.
Isn't it really depressing/smelly/dangerous/toxic?
Absolutely. I tell myself it builds character.
I haven't killed anyone yet. It's been tempting. Earlier today I was told by some guy, after he found out where I was from, that he thought the quarter would never be the same again. I explained to him the quarter didn't sustain much in the way of catastrophic damage. (I used smaller words) He, relieved, said that was great because otherwise all the culture would have been destroyed. Apparently it's all kept in an attic somewhere on Bourbon.
We don't have electricity. The rest of my neighborhood has it now. We haven't had it since returning to the city. The storm ripped the powerlines from the pole off our house. They were hanging down in tatters when we got home. Luckily, because I walked into them more than I should have, they were dead.
Brendan and I have become masters of our little house of darkness. We have candles, flashlights, and oil lamps (for that extra romantic atmosphere). For a while, we just went to bed when it got dark. I call it being on chicken time. Life got easier once we got the gas turned on. I bribed some Entergy guys with cookies and lo, three of them crawled under my house and turned the gas on. We had a little hot tea party afterwards, and the next day, when we got a water heater to replace the flooded one, we all had steamy showers. Good times.
Speaking of the flood -- our house did not get water. According to the nasty waterline on the blocks my house sits on, for my house is raised and awesome, the water had about an inch to spare. Dodged a bullet there.
I spent almost three months helping my neighbor and his contractor/best friend guy rebuild a house. I have new scars and rougher hands. It's pretty cool.
Easily ninety percent of the people I knew prior to the storm did not come back afterwards. When we came back, New Orleans was devoid of children and almost entirely devoid of other women. Very surreal. Kind of lonely. We've managed to cobble together a good little group of friends, though, so don't worry.
In closing, I'll make up a quick FAQ for the curious.
Why on earth did you go back?
I am touched in the head.
What's it like living with no power?
Depends on the weather. Sometimes quite cold.
Coldest recorded temperature inside?
Thirty-nine degrees F, kiddies. Ever slept in three pairs of pants?
How do you survive?
I ran an extension cord out my back door to my landlady's, and plugged in my fridge. No, really.
Isn't it really depressing/smelly/dangerous/toxic?
Absolutely. I tell myself it builds character.
I haven't killed anyone yet. It's been tempting. Earlier today I was told by some guy, after he found out where I was from, that he thought the quarter would never be the same again. I explained to him the quarter didn't sustain much in the way of catastrophic damage. (I used smaller words) He, relieved, said that was great because otherwise all the culture would have been destroyed. Apparently it's all kept in an attic somewhere on Bourbon.