Starting the work week with a pitch-black power outage ranks up there with a bowl of Rancid Prunes cereal for breakfast. Fumbling around in the dark makes you realize how we take our modern life for granted. It also gives you a greater appreciation of the human body's ability to deal with adversity. In this case, adversity is walking into a face full of drywall.
Of course waking to a power outage at 2 a.m. is a bit so-what — unless you still sleep with the light on. However, the blinking alarm clock serves notice that further REM sleep should face a rude awaking sooner rather than late for work. So you stumble out of bed and make your way to the nearest exit leading to a flashlight. Thankfully, all that stands between you and this beacon of light is a toe-breaking hope chest, door knobs to the solar plexus, rogue Barbies lurking in the hallway and a flight of stairs.
Before taking that first step, however, extend your right arm (left if you buck preconceived notions and labeled scissors) and grope. Sure you could flail about, but situations like this embody the very definition of feeling or searching about blindly, hesitantly, or uncertainly. Think Audrey Hepburn in "Wait Until Dark” except no one is trying to kill you — unless you count the stairs.
Darkness has a funny way of stretching hallways and playing with right angles. It's like your three-bedroom, multi-level has been replaced by an amusement park fun house — minus the chewed gum and Tilt-A-World vomit on the floor. Unfortunately, after methodically counting your way down the stairs, you'll realize that the flashlight in the kitchen drawer will be: missing, devoid of batteries, or full of batteries devoid of life. After groping my way back upstairs — right arm and dead flashlight leading the way — I found a few batteries in the camera bag that both caused and broke my fall.
Now came the easy part — getting ready for work.
With a sense of fashion that often resembles dressing in the dark, the lack of electricity didn't even phase my wardrobe selection. As for hair, I think the dim AA light actually made a marked improvement in my style. Shaving, however, is not something you should take the proverbial shot in the dark at. Unless you consider the loss of an eyebrow a minor nick.
With power no doubt restored by this point, I look forward to standing in front of an open refrigerator weighing the attributes of a cold barley soda variety pack. While it may be short-lived, I'll also have a greater appreciation for what is taken for granted: running water, electricity and grope-free shaving.
Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be reached at 933-1416 or e-mail gleiva@gtherald.com