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For 40 days, we limited our use of electricity. We only made exceptions for food preparation and clothes washing. We (the kids and I) were 100% successful with no dishwasher, TV, or computer. I hung my laundry to dry every time except once when I ran four batches through the dryer after recovering from bronchitis. The thing about drying laundry is that you can't fall behind because it takes 12+ hours for each batch to dry, even in arid Utah. The other thing is that it's a little romantic (rhythmic, soothing, productive) to hang damp, clean clothing; I wouldn't mind continuing, except the stiffness of the towels and the lint and wrinkles on the clothes are a little irritating.
For half of the fast, we used no air-conditioning. It was cool most of June, so this wasn't a hardship, except for the day it was 92 degrees. A week later, Tom's allergies (probably the cottonwood trees) were so bad that he took a sick day and ponied up for prescription Allegra. We shut our windows and installed a high-tech air filter. I'm ashamed to admit just how happy I was to have that excuse for using the a/c. I said at first that we'd set the thermostat at 80, so we'd still be doing something, but that cool air is seductive (especially in the third trimester of pregnancy). Soon I had it set on 78, then 76, and finally 74. I can now say that I would rather do without Internet than air-conditioning. (Obviously) I am weak, but physical discomfort is utterly disruptive to any sort of thought process.
Our fast was initially prompted by a high electricity bill that led us to lower our thermostat in winter to 60 degrees and cancel our TV. It was astonishing how easily and quickly we adapted to those two changes -- and how much I liked it (especially how the kids act when there's no TV; though Tom and I continued to spend too much time online and watching hulu). We wanted more of that. I also especially wanted to re-set our expectations and habits to a more "natural" standard, waking with the sun, sleeping with the sun, paying attention to each other and the world around us, instead of all the wonderful things available electronically. Summer time was perfect for this, with school out and everyone eager to be outside anyway, and with the solstice (longest day of the year) falling right in the middle.
Here are some of the things I learned (see 1. Old-fashioned sorrows are (maybe) easier to bear in old-fashioned settings.):
2. Kids (and husbands) are impressionable; make rules wisely (and sparingly). A few days into the fast, Callie (5 1/2) walked up the bare basement stairs towards the kitchen for a glass of water. Near the top, she stumbled and hurt herself. Her cries pierced the darkness and Tom told her to turn on the light. She wailed that she couldn't because we were doing our electricity fast. I said she could make an exception because she was hurt (and I was too lazy to get out of bed). She insisted that no, she could not.
A few weeks later, Tom was home alone for one night while I slept over at my mom's house with the girls (Grandma has a swimming pool, and a dog). He told me later that, in addition to missing us, he had the strongest feeling of guilt over even thinking of turning the lights on. Even though it was my fast, and it was a completely subjective thing, not a sin or an objectively "wrong" thing to do, the guilt was a real thing.
3. Exceptions are a slippery slope. A couple Sundays ago as we walked to church, Callie shouted, "Mommy, you're wearing flip-flops." I don't let the girls wear flip-flops to church; it's one of my very few clothing rules. Lucy (3 1/2) wears sparkle jeans under her dress because she is
