Refugee camp

I suffered a brief moment of guilt today at a gas station: my friends and loved ones back home have to wait in line for hours at the few gas stations with functioning pumps while I can just drive up and fill up the tank for $3.06 a gallon! 

We may be refugees from the power outage, but we're not living like refugees. We're visiting with friends and family, eating sushi, playing badminton, and making home-made ice cream while back home our friends are cooking with charcoal, trying to bathe in a sink full of lukewarm water, and wearing the same dirty clothes over and over. 

Power has been restored to parts of Marietta but not to our end of the county--just in time for the next round of severe storms. I'm sure those who stayed behind struggle every moment, but my only struggle is trying to get information about the progress of repairs and wondering what kind of mess I'll find when I finally get back home. I keep thinking about the liver and onions I fried just before the storm hit Friday night, and then thanks to the power outage, I didn't have water to wash the dishes. Is that greasy skillet still sitting on the stove, and if so, what does my kitchen smell like?

I'll have plenty of time to tackle that problem when I finally get home. For now, I'll just stick around here and enjoy refugee camp.