Mother Nature came calling last week. She delivered a stark message: "You humans are so smug with all your toys and the internet, let's just see if you can get along without them."

To prove her point, she sent us several inches of heavy wet snow, which, to the surprise of no one, weighted down the trees, snapped off a few branches weakened by the last storm, and pulled the plug on Mr. Central Maine Power.

The usual gaggle of household gadgets rolled over and played dead. Suddenly, my house was silent. Was yours?

The faithful furnace, which heats the house – and the water for a welcome morning shower – just quit.

The smarter-than-me smartphone still made calls but refused to send me the usual brace of breathless notifications that keep me up on the latest gossip about the romance between Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce.

Fortunately, I could still write on this new laptop as it is battery-powered.

This new toy is quick and slick. But, unless I hook it to the internet, it won't show my usual daily menu of national and local newspapers or look stuff up, which I do, just to make sure my feeble memory still functions.

For the record, I argue with its AI features, especially when it substitutes one of my words with one it thinks I should use. Drat, and double drat. I do argue with Mr. AI about spelling, too. But, I admit, it is often right.

After two days and nights without power, it got a bit annoying.

The toaster won't toast. The oven won't oven. The lights won’t light. The fridge won't fridge. I dare not open the freezer for fear of losing the ice that most evenings happily clinks in a glass of warm brown liquid as I settle in.

For some reason, I avoided a major pitfall by grinding a measure of coffee in anticipation of a power outage. This allowed me a semblance of morning normality when I give the gas stove a little goose from a propane torch it flames away under the tea kettle. Together they souvenir me a welcome cup of hot coffee.

What else doesn’t work when the power exits stage left? Well, the washing machine and dryer are dormant. But my usual routine is to do the laundry on Thursday morning, beating the power outage.

Now for good news/bad news.

The TV set is blank. But no matter how I yelled at the screen or clicked the clicker, it refused to revive. Thus, it deprived me of my usual swing around the news channels to watch breathless pseudo-politico/legal experts opine on the latest from Grandpa Joe and Grandpa Don.

However, even for a political junkie, like me, it is getting a bit old. The rhetoric on all sides is on repeat, repeat, repeat. Like my mother’s old Victrola record player, they play the same tunes over and over and over again.

For example: The Southern Border. I know there is a major problem. I get it. So do something. Let's fix it. But will it get fixed by Republicans yelling at the Democrats and vice versa? Do both sides think we haven't figured out they are stalling to get a political advantage? Really?

I watched TV in awe as Baltimore’s Key Bridge was knocked into the drink by a 1,000-foot-long container ship. I mourn for the victims. Despite the canned talking points, the structure won’t get rebuilt by Democrats blaming Republicans and vice versa. And, I might add, despite some claims, it didn’t fall down because Pete Buttigieg is the USDOT boss. It was built by President Richard Nixon before Buttigieg was born.

The power outage gave us a welcome break from the blathering on both sides. I fear the rhetoric will kick the organ’s sforzando button by next fall.

Thanks to the faithful plow guy who visited at 3:30 a.m., I can drive to town. But, if I want to get out of the garage, I have to unhook the electric door opener, push the overhead door up, and stuff a stick in the track to keep the door up. Then I have to jump in the SUV's seat, fire her up, and slowly back out, hoping that Mr. Stick stays stuck in the track. Be careful.

P.S., As I was writing this column on Saturday afternoon, the nice folks at CMP sent me a note letting me know they anticipated the power would be restored at Chez Joe at 10 p.m. Monday.

P.P.S., I no sooner wrote the last sentence than the lights came back on.

Thanks to all the linemen working on the weekend.

Did you enjoy the eclipse? See, the world didn’t end. Do your eyeballs still work?