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The #zephyrpocalypse of Ought-Fifteen

Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day (1968)

Owl: This is just a mild spring zephyr compared to the big wind of ’67. Or was it, uh, ’76? Oh, well, no matter. Oh, I remember the big blow well.
Piglet: I’ll remember this one, too.

Oh, because Pooh is my favorite, I’m calling it the #zephyrpocalypse. I hope the term catches. Now, we are having snow, which a pessimist might say is adding insult to injury. There are workers from power companies in 6 nearby states and British Columbia, Canada, working to restore our power. I drove by someone who was from Bremerton, WA, yesterday. I told him I was so grateful that he and his crew were here.

My mother still doesn’t have power, and she still insists that the warm water-sponge baths are fine enough for her / she can’t abandon her animals / she’s fine with the gas fireplace, really, thank you very much. But she dropped a comment yesterday about our roommate making her uncomfortable: that I think is the real issue. My mother doesn’t feel comfortable in my home. That sucks. I can’t fix it either.

We got power Sunday. I am grateful and humbled. Grateful and humbled. Chris unhooked the furnace from the generator, and we did dishes, and started laundry. I offered showers and warmth to anyone on my FB friends list, but no takers yet.

There are warming centers and meals available. The library’s newsletter, #InlandStrong, has useful info.

 

 

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