As I strode home on the longest day of the year, I remarked to myself that, at 8:45, it was still light out. Not only that, it was my favorite time of night, when the sun has set, the air is cooler, but you can still see clearly in the twilight. It didn’t dawn on me until I got home why everything seemed to be bathed in such a serene light; the power was out on my entire street, and for blocks both east and west. Starving, I quickly headed back out and to the Indian restaurant down on the corner; on my way home I had taken note that they were open and obviously their power was working. From my vantage point on a stool at their window, I could see my darkened street and an NSTAR truck and crew at a manhole nearby. I watched them intently, looking for a sign or gesture to indicate when I might be able to return home. The Bollywood movie playing in the restaurant gave them a soundtrack that made them look absurd. One tray of chicken curry and a scoop of ice cream later, I acquiesced to spending a candlelit night with the bogeyman, and I trudged home in the dark, allowing passing cars to light my way with their headlights.