My family and I are engaged in an experiment this late-May weekend. We turned off our electricity Saturday at 2:35 pm, and won’t be turning it on again until Monday morning. My husband and I hatched this idea months ago- let’s go without electricity for at least a day, it’ll be fun! Putting it into action has been a struggle, however, and my resistance has been strong. There just is no ‘convenient’ time to do without something that is so interwoven into every aspect of our lives. However, the one exception I could come up with was one of those island vacations where you pay big bucks to ‘rough it’. Give me a bikini and a sun hat and I’m there!

Right now there is no hot water, no high-speed internet access. Our laptop batteries are running low. I’m wearing a watch for the first time in 2 years, and didn’t have my customary cup of coffee first thing this morning. Will, 15, spent most of yesterday skateboarding outside (instead of working on his tricks in the basement) and was in bed by 9:45. Wyatt, 13 1/2, keeps gazing at the electric panel and whimpering, desperate to switch the electricity back on (his new laptop arrived on Friday and he wants to be on it). Stefan, 21, came home from college in Boston thinking he might do some laundry. Dylan turned 6 yesterday and has new toys to play with, none of which require electricity or batteries. While I write this account from my back porch, I am dodging ‘stomp rockets’ and high-powered squirt guns, fielding questions about my sanity and listening to all manner of griping about what the boys could be doing. My husband has gone to Waltham for the afternoon to dance with a friend. When he gets back, we’ll be waiting for him.

This all started out because I believe Green is the new black, and I’m trying to walk the walk, not just write checks or put action off for some more convenient time. And so here we go. Light bulbs are now energy saving fluorescent, old appliances have been replaced with ones that use a very small amount of water and electricity. We bought a solar oven. It’s a box, painted black on the inside, with reflective panels that fold out. It heats fast, cooks in normal time, and is great when the sun is out. Using it well requires planning ahead, but we’ve cooked up tasty stews, and basics like rice, pasta, squash, and potatoes. The company that makes these sends the bulk of them to villages in Africa where gathering scarce firewood occupies most of peoples’ days. The really big ovens cook dozens of loaves of bread at one time.

In the 24 hours we’ve gone without electricity in our house, two themes have emerged. We notice our habits- one might say addictions- and how automatic many of them are, from flicking on switches to putting bread in the toaster. We notice how irritable we get when those little things we’ve grown so accustomed to are inaccessible. I’ve sworn I’m not going to break down and take the boys out for lunch, but we’re all hungry, it’s way past the usual lunchtime and no one wants another peanut butter sandwich. Where we might have crept off to our respective computers for a little ‘zone-out’ time, flipping through pages on the internet, checking our mail, playing games, chatting with friends, now we’re stuck with each other. The books in the house have been read many times, and the more challenging tomes require light stronger than votive candles.

I’ve had passing thoughts about people coping with the effects of natural disasters or chronic poverty. I know there’s an end to my discomfort, but what if there wasn’t? We’re doing this by choice, but will this help prepare us for a time when pandemic hits, or oil prices skyrocket, or if rationing of any kind were to take place? My husband and I are reminded of close relatives who grew up during the Depression. They kept everything; rubber bands, plastic bags, containers. Portions were small so you ate everything on your plate. It doesn’t seem so odd anymore.

As the day wears on, I get out the mower and work on the field that was our lawn. Martin has returned from dancing, and Stefan got food to grill. We managed a delicious early supper on the back porch, in the soft rain under an umbrella. Indoors afterwards, we played board games and ‘paper telephone’ by candlelight, and watched a lightning storm whip through. When the sun broke out again, we strolled and bicycled through a nearby development. Not only did Dylan peddle the entire route (with training wheels), we scored some great finds from other people’s trash. Small folding tables for our big gatherings, some brand new picture frames, and an almost new computer table for Wyatt’s laptop.

When I awoke early Monday to a cacophony of birdcalls, I was ravenous. Martin flipped the master switch back on, and our house was flooded with light from lamps turned on from absentminded switch-flicking. There’s a low hum from appliances; it was noticeably absent yesterday. The boys had hot showers, I had my steaming coffee, and we’ve all checked our mail. Life is back on track and the next challenge will be to integrate this experience into our daily lives in manageable, effective ways.