I woke with a smile this morning, thinking of pumpkin spiced lattes and colorful leaves fluttering to the ground.
Then I remembered that it's March first and the furnace has been running for at least three months. I only drink "skinny" lattes now and our yard is still so choked with dry, ugly, dead, soggy, brown oak leaves that it's a wonder we haven't been cited by the county.
I should *not* be smelling that first-cold-day-of-fall smell.
So I spent the day cleaning, thinking I might find something spilled into, onto, or over a vent. I found nothing but dust and clutter, both of which I dispatched. By mid-afternoon the house just smelled lemony clean.
Then Paul came home from work. "It's cold in here," he said, checked the thermostat, and headed downstairs to change the furnace filter.
I was cold all day, but thought little of it. I'm often cold, especially when I'm not fat or pregnant. Ada kept taking off all her clothes and running around in just underpants and an "underwear shirt" so I figured the house couldn't be too cold. (She was playing "swimming pool" in her ball pit and had to improvise a swimsuit.)
But, naturally, the furnace is out. And we didn't notice until after 6:00 pm. And it's supposed to get down into the 20's tonight.
Tomorrow I think I'll wake up with that jack frost nipping at my nose feeling accompanied by that I'm about to spend a lot of money I'd rather spend on something else feeling.
3 comments:
My parents are known for keeping their house way too cold, especially when they lived in Maine. One winter, when my mom had a night schedule and I was home from college, we were watching TV at 2am, and I was as always cold. Like you I thought nothing of it, but then my mom said, "Is it cold in here?" That's when I knew we had a problem, and sure enough, the heater had died and it was at least in the single digits outside.
Luckily in an emergency like that, there are on-call repairmen that we could get a hold of.
Oh Sarahlynn - not fun. Hope they get to fixing it quickly!
Topher, I was too cheap to pay for the after hours repair, figuring that people like your parents survive in chilly houses so surely we could tough it out for one night. It didn't get too bad, fortunately, and is now fixed. Whew.
One summer we went to visit a childhood friend of my mom's who was living in Maine. Their house - heated by a wood stove - was SO COLD I thought I'd die in the middle of the night. In the middle of the summer! Hardy folk in those parts.
Rob, they fixed it quickly and cheaply, but I'm still working in the smoke of an open fire. I'm also drowsy. Related? Perhaps it has something to do with the STILL WRAPPED IN PLASTIC newspaper Paul tossed on as extra fuel. Or perhaps it's because I was up working until after 2:00 this morning.
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