a moment in the day: soup

It's Thursday, just the end of the work day, and I clock myself out in my little upstairs work room. Wasn't sure I'd make it through without the power going out again. Just as I click to clock, another gust of wind buffets the side of the house and I hold my breath again. 

Last Saturday at the start of the polar vortex, we lost power along with, what did they say, a hundred and sixty thousand people in Portland? We were out for about six hours but loads of folks were out for days, some still out even now, and the thaw we were told we'd start to get has brought us this ice storm and this wind instead. You start to think you'll never be able to trust your lights and your heater again.

I switch my work computer out for my home computer, make sure it's still charged up to 100%, plug my phone into its own charger but take my old defunct phone with me downstairs as a ready flashlight. Immediately I go to the thermos of soup on the counter and start unscrewing the top.

I pour the soup into a pot and start it reheating.

It's not really soup. It's mostly broth, something I threw together on Saturday night after the power came back on, figuring I'd prepare in case the power went out again that night. And it's not really a thermos. It's a metal water bottle, insulated yes, but this thing doesn't hold the heat too long. When you first fill it, the bottle is so hot you can't touch it, but the contents cool to lukewarm within three hours. I know because I've been reheating it and letting it cool, reheating it and letting it cool ever since.

Now the lights flicker. They've been flickering all day.

Funny how much magical thinking you do in times like these. When I started making the broth on Saturday, I expected the lights to snap off again any minute, but there was something in the back of my mind that said that because I was getting prepared, the electricity would hold and I wouldn't need it. Like the more prepared you are, abracadabra, the less you'll need to be prepared. Add to that preparedness the candles still waiting all over the house and the YouTube videos I watched that claim you can cook something using nothing but tea candles and a muffin tin. 

My broth is simmering, and I shut the stove off, take the pot over to the cutting board, and lift it over the insulated bottle. It's heavy in my hand as I slowly pour. With each inch of hot liquid down into the bottle, I feel an inch better about maybe making it through this night with the power on in the house.

No, I'm not going to drink it. Are you kidding? This stuff has been sitting out on the counter unrefrigerated for five days. It's not for consuming anymore. It's my jinx broth. Here just for magical thinking. 

If I dump it, the power will go out. If I leave it and fail to reheat it, the power will go out. 

I finish pouring. Hold the bottle with a dishtowel and screw the top back on. Put it back over on the counter. Have to stay on top of things. Have to stay prepared. And we'll be alright. Right?