I am lucky. I live near a nuclear power plant—arguably the best run and most beautiful power plant in the world. It’s comforting.
It’s comforting to see Columbia Generating Station’s clean white plume of pure steam rise into the air every time I leave my house. Every time I’m driving home. Every time it’s freezing outside. Every time it’s scorching hot.
Even the few times when it has gone quiet for refueling, the plant stands like a Norman castle protecting the region from energy poverty. It’s comforting.