Typing this in the library at New SLAC because as of Sunday I have furniture, but as of yesterday I don't have electricity. (Long story, involving the stupidity of the local power company and an apparent misunderstanding on the part of my landlord.) Good thing I didn't throw all those candles out before I moved. I actually did toast marshmallows this time, over the candles, because there really isn't anything else to do once it gets too dark to read or write, and if I remember nothing else from the Girl Scouts, I do remember how to make s'mores.
It's also about a hundred degrees out. Well, if I could live in a college dorm in southern Virginia without AC, I can do it again. (Of course, we DID have fans in college. Grumble. I tried sleeping with the window open, but it didn't really help.)
This sort of thing does give one renewed respect for one's ancestors, who got along not only without electricity, but without running water and matches and ice chests and all manner of things. And managed to write Beowulf and Hamlet while they were at it. (Well, OK, the vast vast majority of them didn't write anything of the sort, but after an evening of trying to write by candlelight, I'm very impressed that anybody did.)
Talking of Beowulf, I should probably re-read it before I have to teach it. More later.