Making it up as you go along

I occasionally read someone talking about moving “off the grid,” and rhapsodizing about how nice it’ll be not to worry about outages, brownouts, and generally not being at someone else’s mercy for power.

I always smile…benevolently. Yeah, that’s how I smile. It’s, uh, benevolent. And I ask, below my breath “You sure you’re up for this, son?” I have to do it quietly, because all the dogs would hear is “Want some cheese?”

Here’s a typical morning for me. The big dogs are contentedly snoring away, having sorted out the other couch between them. Ghost has crawled under my blankets and is squashing me against the wall, but that’s okay because … well, I should have named him “Body Heat.” Between him and the pile of blankets I’m warm as toast, but it won’t last. The boys know when I’m awake, and when Uncle Joel wakes up it’s time to go outside.

Okey dokey. Struggle out from under the blankets and hop to the door. Stand aside for the stampede. Now I’ve got a couple of minutes alone to take care of some necessary business. Two-legged once more and with my bladder no longer punishing me for sloth, I light the lamp on the table. I don’t even try the electric light; the back-up lights will work because they’re on separate batteries not controlled by that ungrateful wretch of a Ferrari-priced controller, but I might need that juice later. If the controller’s still working it won’t for long, because the batteries are getting old and they really hate cold. Look up at the clock, and it’s quarter after five. Not so bad.

The dogs clamor to come in, but I ignore them because I’m about to go out. Light the kerosene heater; even though it’s the back-up, because propane is getting a little low and I also use that for cooking and hot water. The refrigerator also runs on propane, but it’s turned off for the winter. Check the inside thermometer; and it’s almost fifty. Small lair, lots of dogs, never gets very cold inside. And it’s free. See? Won’t need much heat today; yesterday the weather was worse than it’s supposed to be today and I didn’t run the heater all day.

Coat and gloves. Always, always service the generator when it’s light. That way you can just stumble outside in the dark and get it running instead of having to fumble around with oil levels and filling the gas tank. Starting a 2-stroke generator with a pull starter can be a trial when it’s cold because the oil flows like honey and impedes the engine’s working parts. The back-up back-up generator, ironically enough, has an electric starter but it got relegated to secondary status when the governor crapped out and what I replaced it with is … well, kind of kludged together and I don’t trust it. So use the one that works right. It’s not too cold today; the generator putts on the second pull and starts on the third. Go into the power shed and convince the controller to boot back up.

The dog’s water bucket still has ice chunks that never thawed yesterday, but the water surrounding them is not frozen so it’s not necessary to break it up with the broomhandle you keep nearby for the purpose. Heavy cloud cover this morning, so the temp never dropped much below thirty. Now I can go inside.

Get the coffee going, boot up the ‘pooter and roll my first ciggie of the day. Glance over at the heater, which should be glowing red by now; it’s not. Try to light it again; it won’t. Check the reservoir using the flashlight that never leaves your belt; it’s empty. Damn! I didn’t use it yesterday, but yesterday I sure should have checked the kerosene level after the landlady used it. My bad. Light the propane heater; it works fine.

The generator’s tone abruptly rises in the middle of the last paragraph: the controller has decided the batteries are full, the lying bastard. The voltage fluctuates momentarily and the computer blinks out. Hope I didn’t lose too much of my precious typing. Go outside and turn off the generator. Come inside and boot the ‘pooter back up. Re-type half of the last paragraph. Could have been worse.

Oatmeal for breakfast this morning. The breadbox is nearly empty; I last made bread for the neighbors’ get-together on Saturday and that left me short because the weather’s been lousy since then and there’s not enough power for the bread maker. I’ve gotten spoiled since getting the bread maker; today I’m gonna have to do it the old-fashioned way. If I want bread I have to make it myself; the nearest store-bought loaf is fifteen miles away and wouldn’t Deputy Dawg love to meet me driving into town in broad daylight? My papers are not in order. Besides, that shit costs money; may as well smoke pre-rolled cigarettes as eat it.

There are compensations: Mine tastes a lot better.

There are always compensations. I hear my single theoretical reader asking, “What are you bitching about? You picked this, didn’t you? Now you’re going to whine about it?” And yes I am whining, because that’s what I do when forced outside by the demands of our ‘off-the-grid’ system at 5:30 in the morning. I get over it every time, because I really did pick this. Like I said, there are lots of compensations.

But mornings, sometimes, when I’m fighting with the generator, negotiating with the power controller, wondering if my water heater froze solid (again), I think about all those times when I grumbled over the need to fiddle with the thermostat in my nice, big, professionally-insulated house.

See, the beauty of all those “modern conveniences” is that they’re so damned…convenient. So very convenient that you get to thinking of them as necessities of life. They’re not, of course. In fact, none of what I outlined just now is necessary for life; hell, it isn’t even that cold today. But when you live with them all your life you think of them as necessities. Just remember that, if you’re planning your own “off-the-grid” gulch. It can be a pain in the ass. Oh, there are compensations; yes, there are. But sometimes you have to think to remember what they are.