At exactly midnight, Friday/Saturday, all power to these 'Eastern foothills' of the Cascade Mountains hugging close to the low land that is Puget Sound's Seattle Metro Area -- all their power got snuffed more surely than a Charles Manson cult victim.
This is being written about 18 hours later, most of the intervening time between then and now being dark, cold, and anxious. Oh, it was chilly during the night, even with gloves and watchcap and hood. And long-johns and sweats and socks and a quilt over 4 blankets. And it was an nervous waking every so often to relieve my gelid bladder and check whether the lights had come back on.
I went to bed sour as whiskey sipped from grandma's slipper.
And I'm still hung over from the experience.