Maybe that's because for me, as for most Americans, one energy crisis or another has shadowed most of the past three decades. ![]() ![]() We want a lot of electrical outlets and a cappuccino maker. We don't want propane refrigerators, kerosene lamps, or composting toilets. I live on an island that happens to have no utilities, but otherwise my wife and I have a normal American life. The euphoria of energy freedom is addictive. A meter shows that 1,285 watts of power are blasting straight from the sun into my system, charging my batteries, cooling my refrigerator, humming through my computer, liberating my life. I have just installed a dozen solar panels on my roof, and they work. ![]() FREEDOM! I stand in a cluttered room surrounded by the debris of electrical enthusiasm: wire peelings, snippets of copper, yellow connectors, insulated pliers.
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