Coming home from work is always my favorite part of the day. Stepping through the door into the warmth of orange walls and wood is a pleasure that never disappoints. I admit here to one bad habit that I developed after my husband, may his memory be blessed, passed away. The first thing I do is turn on the television. I like the sound of voices in the house and even if I am not exactly watching, without the TV the house is just too quiet.
On Wednesday afternoon we all got SMS's informing us that the power is out in most of the kibbutz and that the situation is being worked on. Sure enough, when I get home there is no electricity. It won't be long, I thought, so I do all the straightening/wiping/sweeping/weed-pulling I can bear. Still no electricity. Have a shower, lovely and cool. When I get out – still no power.
This is starting to look serious. Catch up on all the unread newspapers. Now what? Around about 6pm my neighbor has news: the power is back in most of the kibbutz but for us it will take a while longer. This is when I start to lose my mind. What on earth am I to do with myself? Read my book? No, that takes concentration, and all I can think about is the ice cream melting in the freezer. 7pm – still nothing. In desperation I start playing with the cell phone just to see the glowing screen.
7:30 – it's starting to get dark, where are the candles? 8 – it is dark and there aren't enough candles in Israel to properly light this barn. There will never be electricity again. It will be like living in the 18th century, only without the pretty clothes. 8:15 – appliances are beeping, the fridge starts to hum. The power is back! Dinner can be cooked, life can be lived, the mind can be entertained. Some things just can't be taken for granted.
The next morning I get an SMS: a broken pipe means there will be no water for a while. Here we go again.
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