Last night after a very full day, Myrna, Sidecar and I sat down to enjoy Manhattan Murder Mystery. With forty minutes left, the power went out. We were watching on Netflix Instant, so we kept watching, laptops operating on battery power. Ten minutes after that, it sputtered--that was apparently how far the movie had loaded before the power went out, and therefore the wireless went out. Sidecar set up a wifi thingy through his phone, which we hoped would get us through the rest of the movie. (And it did...this movie is excellent, by the way. Watch it.) His phone died just after we finished the film.
Then we scooped out some ice cream and lit some candles and decided to read poetry. Sidecar suggested Poe, and I said I didn't have a volume of Poe (a huge oversight, I now realize). So he opened his computer to look it up. Myrna and I made slight protestations; it defeats the purpose of candlelight. A couple of minutes later he closed his computer, and we felt a little triumphant. Instead we were all defeated. He couldn't look it up because we didn't have internet.
No matter how many times we were thwarted, we never remembered that the internet is not always on. I don't know how we could have forgotten again and again. Are we really that plugged in? I don't even have a smart-phone, and I just tacitly assumed that we could get any information we wanted no matter what.
We had a quiet evening--Sidecar and I read aloud a few poems, and then I read my favorite short story (The Conversion of the Jews by Philip Roth). We called Sidecar a cab, and, just as he had left, noticed that the ceiling fan was turning and the power was back. A perfect end to a full and joyous weekend.