I just got back from going outside to look at the dark. Which isn't, really: The sky has that big city glow, and since we're only about a block from the boundary of the affected area, that direction seems almost bright — I noticed a glittering reflection off a neighbor's chimney-pot that direction. In the other direction, far more stars than usual are visible. Which is still not many, but the difference is quite noticable. Overall, the city glow washes the neighborhood in a faint even light. Windows gently glow in the houses of neighbors who've found candles. I look back and see a faint glow in our livingroom from the one candle I could find.
When I was little, on the farm, power outages were commonplace; I know we once got by for three days on kerosene lanterns and candles. And one of the habits my mom engrained in me was to always keep candles in the utility drawer in the kitchen. I know that habit was still intact in 2001, but somewhere in the past few years I fell out of it. So I only knew where one scented candle was. Remarkable how much light it sheds.
Greg is sitting across from me on the couch, strumming his guitar. We chat a little; I type; he plays; we chat some more. The UPSes beep in the background.
I've always liked power outages, and this one confirms that. Even with net access in the middle of one, it's peaceful.... Centering.
The candle is guttering, and my laptop's battery is running down. Good night.