Day 5 without power, and the hobo life is getting old. Someone* at the shelter just asked me “Are you Jen Singer? You look like your picture.” After five nights sleeping by the fire, trading bananas for showers and not blow-drying my hair, being called “famous” was only slightly less wonderful to me than the compliment that I actually look like pre-hobo me.
Word here at the shelter is that the electric company says Sunday evening to get power back, but I will believe it when I see my kitchen lights ablaze and hear the much-missed sound of my baseboard heaters clicking away. Until then, we will camp out at home, build fires and play Battleship.
We try to use our gas sparingly, considering the gas lines tend to be miles long; I’m afraid I’ll run out of gas waiting for gas. People at the shelter reported that they’re stealing gas at gunpoint in New York City, so I think I’ll just walk if need be, thank you. I take them at their word, as I can’t see the TV news at home. I learn everything from newspapers, glimpses of MSN when my laptop has juice, my Facebook feed and word-of-mouth at the shelter.
I spend my days hanging out with teenagers, driving them to the diner (the Honda Hobo that I am), and wandering the Petco, listening to 101 reasons why we need a pet ferret.
#3: “They’ll keep you warm in power outages!”
So will a fleece jacket, and yet it doesn’t look like a weasel or flip out the cat. Also, one of the kids asking for a ferret isn’t even related to me, but his generator know-how has been invaluable to me. The boy has provided hot tea and oatmeal for me every morning, so that means I owe him a ferret. Also, beef jerky and Swedish Fish, but I made good on those when the supermarket opened (for non-perishables only) the other day.
The cat, Benny, is among my greatest assets this week, being all warm and fuzzy, yet he does not require cooked food or showers. This morning we woke up together on the couch in the living room, where I’ve camped all week, our noses just inches from each other’s. I closed my eyes and snoozed off again, my hands so toasty under his 12 pounds of, uh, insulation, that I didn’t want to move. The house was 52 degrees, but Benny is way, way warmer.
While the kids run around outside the shelter, the adults speak in hushed tones about a potential nor-easter next week involving the s-word: snow. And heavy, wet snow at that. I traded my extra gas to the generator kid for dinner, so I’m not sure I can use my snowblower. But I have teenagers and shovels — and therefore, likely, a ferret.
Bananas for showers. Ferrets for cleared driveways. The life of the Honda Hobo is a unique one indeed.
(Again, WordPress won’t let me post photos. Again, eh. I’ve got power, heat and hot tea. Good enough.)
*Thank you Adam Barish of Route 23 Honda for the compliment. Also, for the CRV that has made me the Honda Hobo this week. Visit them today!