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~jlm

27-Jan-2020

My name is Mary, and I’m an electraholic

Filed under: humor — mary @ 20:59

Hi, I’m Mary and I’m an electron addict. I’ve been sustainable for 52 days.

I’d like to share my story. I first began to understand the gravity of my problem during the PG&E blackout in late October. For many of my friends it was an inconvenience, but for me it was an intervention. Within the first 24 hours I began to experience cravings. I craved hot coffee, hot water, any water, hot food; light to read by, light to find the bathroom, terrible TV shows, even terrible news. I became irritable, annoyed with my dog, my husband, even our cat just for being alive and invisible in the dark. I was anxious and jittery. How long could they legally turn power off? Where was the PUC when we needed them? Had Cliff repaired the voltage regulator on our generator correctly or were all our motors being ruined? Why did fires still start when power was supposedly shut off? How could we ever escape this dark prison?

Four and a half days I suffered acute withdrawal symptoms, and then, power was restored. I couldn’t wait to start using. I e-mailed. I showered. I washed and watered and cooked. The endorphins flowed. As frail woman I could wash clothes, send my thoughts across miles, provide hot food for my family and bring water to a parched garden with such ease. The electrons were my slaves.

At the end of the day I went to bed exhausted, but not at ease. I clutched the remote, never wanting the sound and light to stop. I fretted about my supply of electrons. I needed to recharge more batteries and stash more water. Another intervention could occur anytime. I ordered a better generator/inverter on Amazon. I emailed Tesla. What I needed was a fourteen thousand dollar wall of batteries. That Tesla wall looked so lovely in the advertisement. All the precious electrons generated by our solar array could be safely stored there.

Still I could not sleep. Thank God for EA. The ad popped up just after I left the Tesla site. I called and my life changed. My wonderful sponsor helped me to let go and trust my higher power. She helped me see how I had harmed the planet and future generations while using. I accepted Mother Nature as my higher power and my sponsor helped me see Mother Nature’s generous hand in the golden persimmons and scarlet pomegranates, the change of seasons and the arrival of an atmospheric river. My sponsor helped me live sustainably.

Still, as I mentioned, I am a fragile woman. My hands tremble at the dimming of the day. I come here with an urgent need for a sponsor. My first sponsor, my beacon of hope and true north, relapsed on Thanksgiving. Her family refused to believe that a solar cooker nestled in the snow could roast a turkey and sadly they were right.

[ This awesome story is by guest blogger Mary Myers.   — JLM ]

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