My house lost its power; 28 December, 5:30 a.m.
I was still awake and I watched the transformer on the telephone pole outside of my house explode through the track blinds covering my window that overlooks the garage. At 3 p.m. I awoke, was cold. Dad came to my room, told me about the power and that he was going to shower, made a joke about blow-drying his hair in his car. I went downstairs and my step-mom was sitting in an armchair wearing heavy clothes, covered in blankets. It was 62 degrees inside of the house. The fake fireplace was lit -- a fire can be turned on and is lit by gas, not combustion of wood -- but the flame isn't very hot at all; like a stove top flame, not a bonfire.
I felt calm and new. I wore red pants and a yellow sweater.
