Weird rambling ahead....

Seven days without water or power illuminated a certain understanding, a certain illusion, a certain misconception I held about history and the way I ordered it in my fictional thinking.

These seeds of illusion were planted during a period in my life when I read fiction framed in late nineteenth century England.  I liked the idea of the English ton, the ball gowns, the jewels, the soirées, the scandal.  I liked my heroines rich, smart, (when it seemed the rule of the day demanded women of all classes be uneducated and the rich ones fairly selfish) with a flare for adventure.  A woman who looked beyond social class when unearthing new relationships.

In short, an interesting woman.

The appeal of course was imagining myself as such a heroine, because I don't have the privileges of such nobility in my life now.

Or do I?

I missed something.  Something huge, big enough that were I to write such a heroine without having this realization she would be nothing but a plastic rubbery and ultimately BORING character.

I thought the women of the ton more interesting than the common woman because there was an ability to access books if so inclined, travel, fine clothes, impact the community around them, fortunes to spend/make, and time for self-reflection.

All summed up, it wasn't those things which made her unique and worthy of my interest.  Nope.  Turns out it was more about the abundance of leisure time.

After a week of carrying our family's water, cooking over an open flame, trying to keep people clean and well fed I discovered how much TIME the basic necessities consume in life without the benefit of modern invention.

A noble woman's wealth bought her leisure time by hiring servants to see to basic necessities while she, if so inclined delved into more academic, or self serving pursuits.

The servant carrying water for the nobility in the late nineteenth century might today score at the upper level on an IQ test.  But, because she didn't have the resources for leisure, her IQ potential was unrealized.

As I carried scummy pond water to yet another toilet so one of my kids could flush I realized, the essential difference between the noble woman and her servant wasn't those things listed above.  It was leisure time.

Today we are elevated in many respects to nobility by the amount of leisure time we possess.  (Ok, that's a stretch, honestly I think all Americans outrank English nobility.  Neener.)  But more to the point, we are elevated by the timing of our births, if not to actual factual nobility, then certainly to some of the privileges of the nobility in the 19th century, and in most cases MORE.

My washing machine is a servant.

My dishwasher is a servant.

My vacuum cleaner, stove, microwave, furnace, and refrigerators are all servants.

And the hot water heater and pipes in my house are worthy of a small army of servants.

All there to provide me with more leisure time.  More time to spend with my family, more time to pursue self interests, more time for adventures, a soirée or two, heh, more time to take a job outside the home if I wish, just plain MORE TIME to use as I see fit.

There is a reason most average women didn't work outside the home in earlier times and I don't think it really had as much to do with the menfolk wanting to keep them in their place as I once so easily believed.  (Especially since men invented most of my current servants to give me more leisure time.)
Nope.

After a week of doing everything my "servants" usually do, I realized women without resources didn't have time to do much of anything outside of the basic necessities.   And it made things I consider "normal" like surfing the net, writing, school, shopping, bowling, curling my hair, applying make up, etc all seem trite and self-centered.  I mean only the "elite" (read: people with power/water ie SERVANTS) could be so frivolous with their time.  I on the other hand, had REAL responsibilities.

It is so easy to see how the hostility between social classes is nurtured by leisure time.

So the seeds of illusion are now just empty shells.  And ultimately the only real difference between the imagined heroine of the English ton and the woman carrying her water, sweeping her floors, washing her clothes, was leisure time.