Allow me to set the scene: I am home alone, on my day off, doing some cleaning. It's the end of the day, with the sun hanging on for maybe another thirty minutes or so, and I decide to start a load of laundry. It's a bit windy outside, but nothing too wild or crazy. No rain, no thunder.

I head downstairs into the basement to start my laundry, and as I'm filling the washing machine, the lightbulb in the lamp above my head starts to flicker. I think to myself, I really hope that bulb doesn't go out; I don't think I have any extras. But, I am not too worried about it, as the light that illuminates the rest of the basement is just fine—or so I think.

As I'm loading the last part of my laundry into the washing machine, everything suddenly goes dark. I freeze, unable to tell if my eyes are open or closed, seeing nothing but blackness everywhere. I am without my cell phone or a flashlight, in my slippers, in the complete darkness, and I begin to absolutely panic. I hold my breath for a moment, hoping that it's just a power flicker, but quickly I realize the worst has happened: the power has gone out, and I am trapped in the basement, all the way across the room from the staircase.

I go into a full-fledged panic. I am yelling for help, but there is no one home but me. I start hyperventilating, trying my hardest not to cry as I accept my fate that this is how it ends for me: alone in my dark, creepy, cold, wet, gross, dirty, spidery basement.

After my ultra-dramatic 15 seconds of panic, I come to terms with the situation I am in and tell myself (out loud), "I have to figure out how to get out of here." I put my hands out in front of me, find the wall, and start feeling my way back to the stairs, hoping I don't touch anything gross. It's harder than it sounds, though, because I am so disoriented in the darkness. I somehow end up back at the washing machine, still all the way across the room from the stairs. Panic starts to creep back in, and tears are in my eyes, but I give myself a pep talk and keep repeating, "I can do this," over and over again.

After what seems like forever, inching my way along the wall and the floor, I make it back to the staircase. Once I am upstairs, I can see again, with the last bit of sun coming through the windows. I realize I am safe, and then I absolutely lose it. Crying, shaking, hyperventilating; I can feel my heart in my throat. I couldn't have been down there longer than a few minutes, but it was enough to terrify me to the point of barely being able to breathe.

Once I finally calm down and gather myself, I make the decision right then and there that I must buy a generator. This was the final straw for me. In the past, I have endured multiple power outages lasting several days in freezing temperatures, but this one was the worst of all. The next day, I called a local company that installs generators and set up an appointment for the following week.

Having a standby generator installed at your home is a smart idea. New England is known for its harsh and fast-changing weather, which can often lead to power outages. If you work from home or rely on heat that is powered by electricity, having a generator is almost a necessity. Additionally, it can add value to your home, in case you decide to sell it in the future.

The generator is set to be installed by the end of this month, and I have a feeling that I am going to feel silly for putting it off for as long as I have. Although I don't plan to ever enter the basement without a flashlight or my cell phone ever again, in the event that I do and the power goes out, I won't be stuck in the dark like I was. I can't guarantee I won't still panic, though, during the few seconds between the outage and the generator kicking on, but I think I can spare the screaming for help and maybe the crying. Maybe.

Paige O. Roberts has a degree in Creative Writing from Southern New Hampshire University. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Henniker Review, Sidereal Magazine, Rejection Letters, and Cypress. She has been nominated for a Best of the Net and Pushcart Prize. She lives in northern New Hampshire, where she owns and operates a pet boutique called Tailswag.