T minus 2

At about 7:45 tonight, all the power went off in our neighborhood. My wife and I ate dinner with the moonlight shining through our dining room windows. She then put our 6-year-old son to bed, and I helped our 9-year-old daughter do her homework by candlelight, which sounds very rustic and pioneer-esque, but ended up annoying us both. She's an excellent student and likes to get everything just right; needless to say, squinting over the books in the dim light of the candles and my Blackberry is not her preferred studying mode. She considers this half-assing it.

Now everyone's in bed. The house was pitch black for a while, and going to sleep just felt right, even though it was only about 9:30. I thought I'd come back downstairs and write a post in the darkness, just like Paul Revere. But the power came back on, and with it, every light in the house. From the street, it looked as if the place were on fire.

I should be packing my bags, but my momentum is gone. Funny, I can hardly think about anything now other than this trip to Paris -- which is just days away -- but I can't manage to open that suitcase. It'll work itself out, I'm sure. Talk about half-assing it, huh?

One thing I have done, however, is secure my in-flight wardrobe. Voila:




Stylin'. Bonjour City of Lights!