We live in the Age of the Internet, which is just one of the things that was cut off from me when a recent storm wreacked havoc on our town’s power lines. Virtually everything we do, from cooking meals to listening to music to writing an email to a friend, revolves in some way around electricity. So when it’s suddenly snatched away by a God who probably wishes we’d get our butts off the computer and go outside to take a quick look at the awe-inspiring world He created sometime in the past (probably over fifty years ago), well, we don’t know what to do with ourselves.

One good thing to do is scream. Scream bloody murder. Not because it’s traumatic to be sitting in the dark; merely it’s a great lot of fun to be loud. During the storm I screamed for over three hours straight and it did me a world of good. The neighbors didn’t like it, but they have large plastic flamingoes in their backyard, so by my estimation we’re even.

Once you’ve recovered from the initial shock of not getting to see the last ten minutes of a “Sanford & Son” rerun that originally aired thirty years ago, it’s time to get up and walk around the house. The primary purpose of this is to see if by simply moving from one place to another you can somehow, by sheer effort of will, get the power to come back on. Eventually, and probably many times, you will inevitably forget about the power loss and automatically flick the light switch in the bathroom. Then you will laugh, and if there is anyone else in the house with you at the time, you will loudly tell them all about your little faux pas because by now you’ve exhausted all topics of conversation and are craving something new to talk about. Then you will probably go to the bathroom, though you must make sure that if you keep the door open so you can see you will warn the people you were just talking to, or else you will have too much to talk about.

Eat peanut-butter sandwiches. Drink anything you can find in the kitchen, except for dishwashing detergent because it will force you to spend a lot more time in the bathroom. Tell yourself this is how Abe Lincoln had it all the time growing up, and he ended up as our 16th President. Then come to your senses and realize that Lincoln grew up in the formative years of the 19th century, and therefore knew practically nothing about telephones, radios, TVs, and online Literati. Our bearded friend from ages past did not know what he was missing, and probably did what every other American who ever lived does and found something to complain about regardless.

Look for your flashlights. Realize you are out of C batteries. Curse. Look out the window for a while. Curse again. Stand up. Reminisce about that very special “My Name is Earl” you saw last week. Fall asleep, and wake up hours later to find the sun streaming through your living room windows and the dog engaging in a battle of wits with one of your old tennis shoes.

Then for God’s sake leave the house, and under no circumstances return to it until the lights come back on. If you feel it necessary, bring the dog with you. After the power comes back on, you may pat yourself on the back and treat yourself to a large pizza as a reward for surviving the Great Power Crisis of 2008 (or whatever year it is where you are). Finally, devise an especially creative way of turning this into a solid-sounding reason for missing your next two days of work.