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For those of you living outside the Washington DC area (read: The Hinterlands), you've probably not heard of the very severe summer storms which swept our way Sunday night. These storms are, for the most part, a temporary but welcome relief from the stifling humidity and heat which seems is if it will suck the very air out of your chest, but while not uncommon during this time of year, they also bring the inevitable destruction of falling trees, downed power lines and transportation delays seemingly designed to bring additional misery to an already miserable Monday commute.
And so it happend, suddenly and without explanation at Huggins House Sunday night. I say suddenly and without explanation because the power cut arrived hours after the storms had wreaked havoc in the area. Fortunately, I had already completed my nightly ritual of personal hygiene and the tricky job of picking our my ensemble to wear for the following day so the power loss proved no real disruption to my routine. But, as I was watching a pivotal moment in the plot line of Buck Privates on Turner Classic Movies, it was, neverthelesss, annoying.
Still, with an "every cloud" mentality, I groped about the house for the emergency lantern and flashlight The Late Partner insisted was vital to the successful running of a household. Once found, the small comfort of some temporary light bought a smile to my face as I saw (and heard) panicked neighbors who had obviously not had the benefit of a haranguing partner, and therefore, no light.
Once the neighborly noise had died down a bit, I was, for the most part resigned to accept the darkness would probably last for awhile, so I did something I haven't done for ages; sat on the balcony, watched the full moon partially obscured by the drifting night-time clouds, and relaxed. In the near-complete darkness, interrupted occasionally by the passing headlights of a car, there was nothing for me to do but relax; relax and think.
It dawned on me quite quickly that without all the distractions of light, the noise of all manner of mechanical contraptions and the constant droning of the television set, it was easy, if not downright impossible not to unwind. It occurred to me that all manner of gizmos, deliberate in their intrusion of quiet contemplation, was not what human beings were supposed to deal with at the end of a productive day. The onset of night was meant to triggger the body's need for rest and relaxation; if not the case, I reasoned, why do most of the animal kingdom do likewise? I followed this train of thought as far as I could take it before my own theory about natural nocturnal rest came to pass and I found myself longing for sleep.
Lazily I shuffled on through the darkness, punctuated by the small shaft of torch light until I made my way to the comfort of the king-size. Confident that I was naturally sedated enough to enjoy an uninterrupted night of sleep I contemplated once again how wonderfully simple is nature's way.
Before drifting off however, I still checked to be sure the batter-powered alarm clock was set for an un-natural wake up call of 4.30, and reminded myself to make plenty of coffee in the morning in preparation for another manic Monday. Nature may not have meant for our bodies to deal with all the gizmos, noises and distractions that interrupt quiet contemplation but it is, after all, the 21st century. Methinks it may be time for a "software" update.
