Wednesday, 12/4
10 a.m.
Order a new oven from Lowe's. The old one broke down for the second time in two months, and Sears punted when I ordered one from them two weeks ago. Time to give someone else a shot.

2 p.m.
The foul weather begins. At least, when Max and I come out of a craft store, little bitty pieces of ice (mini hail, really) are pelting us. He turns his head into the wind, catches some ice in his mouth and then flashes his squinty smile. Max likes cold weather. He should have been born in upstate New York like his dad, not this little corner of the New South.

5 p.m.
We hike over to see some friends. The weather has gone from ice to rain to ice to snow to ice. Now it's thinking about becoming rain again. There's already a ton of ice on the trees.

8 p.m.
Still at Sally and Richard's. We eat dinner, drink some Belgian beer and Spanish wine.

9 p.m.
The power goes out. Barbara, Max and I hike home in the dark. Max goes to sleep.

10 p.m.
Hurrah! The power comes back on. Barbara decides to hit the hay. Newspapers are notoriously rough on their employees the day after a natural disaster, so she decides to store up some energy.

Thursday, 12/5
1 a.m.
The power goes out. For good.

9 a.m.
House is 60 degrees. Trees are full of ice, but nothing has fallen on our house or cars. There are plenty of limbs in the street, though. All in all, it's a dangerously beautiful scene. Barbara leaves for work. I build a fire of cardboard and let the wet wood dry out over the hot flames. It's touch and go, but we have a fire. I listen to the radio (battery-powered), which tells me that Duke Power estimates that 90 percent of its customers will have power by Sunday night.

2 p.m.
Max and I head over to see Christina and Murph and Charlie. Charlie is four months older than Max, and he makes sure we all know it by staying one step ahead of his younger friend. He's got a cute smile, and at least he shares his toys willingly. We spend the afternoon in front of their fire.

4 p.m.
We go home to stoke the fire and get ready for the evening. House is 55 degrees. A medium-sized sycamore branch has fallen on our house and slid onto the front sidewalk. On its way down, the branch managed to dislodge three of the pieces of chickenwire that we call gutter guards. Total damage to our house from the ice storm: $2.

7 p.m.
House is 50 degrees. Barbara walks in, peers through the darkness and declares that we will be staying with our friends John and Karen. We pack up sleeping bags, pillows, clothes, baby food and the all-important Pack-n-Play (the ubiquitous brand of portable crib). Once there we find our friends Vicki and Rich and their four-month-old Shr-Hui (feel free to call him Eliot if you like). Another couple is also crashing, increasing the normal capacity of this house fivefold. We eat a late dinner and fall asleep.

Friday, 12/6
9 a.m.
Max and I head home--with all of our gear. Power will be on today, I'm sure of it. After all, our house is just a mile from downtown. Of course, as we drive through downtown Durham we can see that there's no power. Duke Power estimates that 3/4 of the city lost power (some 130,000-140,000 people), and that the number actually peaked this morning after all the ice refroze last night. House is 42 degrees. I build another fire, and Max and I play in the living room. Did I mention that Max loves the cooler house? He's making ecstatic noises he's never made before.

2 p.m.
Max needs a nap. I pack all of our gear into the car (I'm feeling worse and worse about getting power today), strap in Max and hit the road. We join in the mass hysteria by waiting in an interminable gas line at one of the few functioning service stations and then drive around the city a while. Nobody has power. There are a few pockets (such as our friends' house), but most of the lights are out. Of course, our friends don't have phone service. Cable is also down all over as well. People are comparing this to Hurricane Fran in 1995. I wasn't here for that, but this is starting to get annoying.

5 p.m.
We get back to John and Karen's house in time to order Chinese. We spend another evening of eating and talking and watching babies. Everybody goes to bed early. This house camping thing is surprisingly tiring.

Saturday, 12/7
9 a.m.
Bob and Suzanne (the other couple camping out) have power. No phones, of course, but power is good. We wish them well. They pack up and leave. Then Barbara and I move our stuff out of the living room and into the spare bedroom.

3 p.m.
Barbara and I leave a sleeping Max in Karen's care and head off to the brand-new mega-mall to do some shopping and take a break. It's amazing. They spent a hundred million bucks or something to build this mall, and even after traipsing through it twice I can't find much I want to buy. I know I'm not the poster child for conspicuous consumption, but geez. Is everybody a crap merchant these days, or is it just me?

5 p.m.
We return. Vicki is making some kind of coconut shrimp dish. Max woke up happy (alright!), but then showed off his gymnastic moves when Karen tried to change his diaper. Nine-month-olds generally won't lie on their backs for a second, much less the 30 or so necessary to swap out a diaper. She managed well enough. He's wearing something, anyway.

8 p.m.
We start to watch Erik the Viking, but get distracted. I can't remember by what. We all go to sleep early again.

Sunday, 12/8
9 a.m.
People are starting to get pissy. Politicians, I mean. Our mayor, Bill Bell, is a nice enough guy. But his quotes in the paper are starting to sound positively belligerent. Oh, and the new estimate is that 90 percent of Durham will have power by Wednesday night.

Wednesday?

11 a.m.
We head out to check on the house and then help out Vicki and Rich with some yard work. By the time we get over there, they've thrown in the towel. We haven't even seen any power trucks, much less any places near our houses with juice.

Wednesday?

5 p.m.
My turn to cook. I make enchiladas (three kinds: chicken, chorizo and cheese). Once again, I convert a vegetarian (albeit a shaky one) to meat for an evening. Chorizo smells so good it's sinful.

Monday, 12/9
9 a.m.
The workers head to work, and Vicki and I stay home with Shr-Hui and Max. The paper lists the outages in Durham at 31,000. Quite an improvement--there is hope! Then I check the Duke Power web site. It lists 60,000 outages. Apparently the lower number was a "bad estimate." I'm sure they corrected it just after deadline at the newspaper. We both check our houses (still stuck at 42 degrees, which is much better than freezing). Vicki reports seeing power trucks on their street, though nothing at their house.

Duke Power is seriously starting to piss me off. The paper reported on a nasty meeting between the company's CEO and Mayor Bell. Kick ass, Bill!

5 p.m.
I go home to get clothes for Tuesday. Our entire neighborhood has power--except for our street. I'm so bummed I want to shoot somebody, but luckily the mayor instituted a state of emergency which banned the sale of booze and guns. I've got 11 cases of beer in my basement, so there's no worry of running out of sauce.

9 p.m.
I call home, hoping the answering machine picks up and tells me we have power. We don't. I watch Miami clock Chicago. Well, I watch until the Dolphins start throwing the ball to keep the score down. Funny how a guy like Ricky Williams can turn a game upside-down.

Tuesday, 12/10
9 a.m.
I call home. No power. Damn.

11:30 a.m.
I go home to check the mail, and lo and behold, we have juice. The house is still cold (50 degrees), but it's warming up. I feed Max lunch, check my e-mail (only 600 messages, 498 of them with the subject line "I can't believe what I just did--wanna see?") and then head back to John and Karen's.

2 p.m.
I put Max down for a nap and take one myself.

4 p.m.
I score some food to make dinner. A simple one: Grouper, sweet potatoes, biscuits and salad.

7 p.m.
Vicki and Rich call home. They have power, too. We're all going home tonight!

9 p.m.
Max is asleep in his own bed and I'm tired. I flip on the TV to watch 24. No freakin' cable. No freakin' signal, either. Oh well. Power will do. And anyway, there's a refrigerator to clean.

Wednesday, 12/11
9 a.m.
Read the paper in my own damn house. The governor is calling the power companies in for a few hearings on the slowness of the cleanup. Mayor Bell is still bellicose. I'd like to see some video of that, but I don't have any TV.

9:30 a.m.
Begin living my life. In my own house.

9:35 a.m.
Remember that my oven still doesn't work. Maybe I oughta call Lowe's and see what's holding things up.

9 p.m.
Cable is back--just in time for the Canes game. Damned straight.

Of everything he didn't have during his week away from home, Jon Worley missed his clear plastic rubber ducky toilet seat the most.