Given the power outages that left many of us in the region without electricity and heat this weekend, an article in the last edition of the Portland Tribune's Sustainable Weekly is put in an interesting new context. It concerns the trials and tribulations of a pair of roomates who are living in NE with no heat in their duplex. Their NW Natural bill for October, same as mine, was $6.54--the minimum bill for when usage rounds down to zero therms. I too have not looked back since turning off the pilot light to my furnace, and now I must say that I feel a little less crazy for it.
I was not affected by any of the outages, and I hope those who were were able to stay warm enough. I have just added another blanket to my stack, and can stay toasty even as the indoor temperature in my studio drops into the thirties. I am not, however (of course!), advocating that everyone go turn off their thermostats, nor does the Tribune article, which, far from being a position paper, is a pastiche of cute exchanges between the residents and their poofy-jacket wearing girlfriends. The perverse, spartan gratification that I, and apparently at least a couple of others, get from purposefully coming home to a cold, dark apartment, is surely alien to most, especially those inconvenienced this weekend. But I find value in it that goes beyond simple sacrifice or sanctimony.
Our centralized energy infrastructure is becoming increasingly unreliable, and will likely continue as such. The efforts of homeowners, such as those in England flocking to install their own wind turbines, and of countless other entities, to reassert personal and local control over our various infrastructures is a reflection of this insecurity, and of the desire to try things differently. For my present situation, that means paying homage to one of my favorite sensations from backpacking: the feeling of being sealed up to my neck, with a crisp cold on my cheeks. Insulation is, after all, only a one time expense.
