We had a power loss again last night. And although I’d been sleepy before the lights went out, suddenly I was wide awake and hyped-worried. So I got out of bed to look out the window—yes, indeedy; it was dark out there—and, stumbling around in the dark, smashed my baby toe against a wooden trunk. So I limped back to bed.
Really, I counseled myself, what else could I do except remain in my warm bed? And just wait for someone to fix whatever power lines were broken.
So I tried simply going to sleep (almost immediately heard lots of sirens. That was reassuring. Until it wasn’t.) But my mind couldn’t help itself: Instead of letting me sleep, it insisted on obsessing about all the things that would now go terribly wrong because we’d lost electricity.
But, really, I scolded myself in my darkened, spookily quiet bedroom (Never realized how many things HUM in my house). Worrying is nuts. You are powerless. Get it?
The NStar truck rumbled past soon after that and, maybe a half hour later, my house hummed again.