Baby, It’s Cold In Here

http://notesfromtheshallowend.com

“Darling, I love you to the depths of my soul. But if your freezing cold witch feet touch me one more time I’m going to smother you with your own pillow.”

Happy Thursday, everyone!

How is your winter going? We’re enjoying spring-like temperatures of 78 degrees and sunny here in Ohio. Just kidding. It’s 18 degrees and until today we haven’t seen the sun in like two weeks. Not that anyone was actually concerned.  

Actual conversation overheard at NASA:

Scientist 1: Hmm. that’s weird.

Scientist 2: What’s weird?

Scientist 1: It’s just that, I haven’t seen the sun in a while. You?

Scientist 2: Come to think of it, I haven’t seen it around lately either.

Scientist 1: That seems bad.

Scientist 2: Right? We kind of need it. For, like, planetary survival and whatnot.

Scientist 1: I think… it might have finally fizzled out. I mean, is that a thing?  

Scientist 2: I’m trying to remember if they covered that in training.

Scientist 1: Huh.

Scientist 2: Huh.

Scientist 1: Welp, good thing I bought that new goose down parka! Ha ha ha!

Scientist 2: Ha ha ha!  

But our trusty furnace kept chugging along, trying to stay one step ahead of the cold, and keeping us toasty while we performed important tasks*. Until it didn’t.

(*“important tasks”  include binge watching Comedians In Cars Getting Coffee because we’re too lazy to reach for the remote and hit “exit”.)  

Saturday morning found the VP and me checking the thermostat and frantically waving our hands in front of the vents as if we could summon the heat back to life through the skillful use of jazz hands. Because there was air coming out, but no heat, I made an educated guess.

“I think the pilot light is out,” I said. To which the VP,  an educated man and experienced homeowner, responded with the following question:

“We have a pilot light?”

FYI, when you have to figure out how to re-light a pilot light, it’s best when you have at least one person who knows what they are doing so you don’t get blown sky high like Wile E. Coyote.  

So, our efforts to re-light the pilot light went something like this:

“It says to switch off the thingy. Did we switch off the thingy?”

“Do you smell gas? Make sure we don’t smell any gas.”

“Are you sure you switched off the thingy?

“Maybe we need a flashlight.”

“Wait, is that gas?”

“Yeah. I’m just gonna let you take care of this. You’ve lived a full life.”

In the end,we had to call an HVAC guy and explained that the pilot light on or furnace was out.  And the HVAC guy,  being an expert in these matters, asked the following question:

“You have a pilot light?”

Bottom line, it turns out we needed a part. A part we couldn’t get until Monday. So we were looking at 48 hours of no heat in our house. Which didn’t start out too bad, as it was still (relatively) warm outside (well, for Ohio in February, anyhow).  But then the temperature outside started to drop. And then we had a snowstorm. And then I started Googling “how to make a trash barrel fire”, searching the house for furniture I could burn, and praying for the sweet, sweet release of death.

Thank goodness for a Superbowl party, which allowed us to huddle around our friends’ heat vents for about 8 hours and ingest unholy amounts of seven layer dip while we pretended to care who won. And on Monday morning, my kids skipped out the door for school, happy to be going to a place where they wouldn’t resemble Jack’s last scene in Titanic by lunchtime.

Shortly after that, the HVAC guy, aka my new hero, showed up, popped the new part in the furnace, and had our heat running again within 10 minutes. I thought about how not having heat made me really appreciate having heat. And when the kids got from home from school, they immediately let me know their feelings on the matter.

“Ugh, it’s too warm in here, can we turn the heat down?” they said in unison as they stripped off  their coats and dropped them on the floor.

If you need me, I’ll be huddled around a trash barrel fire.    

 

  

 

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