I have been feeling kind of pookie of late. All weekend I lounged around with little energy except to scream at the Seahawks for not running the ball at the one-yard line. The. One. Yard. Line. I had to eat three cookies and half a can of chocolate covered almonds to deal with my super emotions.
The Big Daddy and I dejectedly went to bed and I took some drugs to ward off my body aches. I woke up Monday morning and started getting ready for work but did an about-face midway through. I was staying home and taking care of me. I rarely miss work but on this day I was happy to be staying in a warm bed and not dealing with the cold, dreary day. The Big Daddy’s choice for warmth was to fly to San Francisco.
I was chilled to the bone all day so I made some chicken soup and finally warmed up enough to sleep for a few hours. When I woke I went downstairs and looked at the thermostat. It had yet to reach sixty degrees. All day the heat was running and not warming up the house and that’s when I finally figured out that there was something wrong with the furnace.
This led to a Google search and a call to the neighbor for the name of her heating and AC guy. “Maybe your pilot light is out,” she said. “I don’t think Steve knows how to light one but I bet one of the other guys have done it. Call one of them and ask them to come over and check.”
I called Neighbor Mark The Woodworker who can make anything. “There’s still furnaces with pilot lights,” he asked. Maybe I should have asked him to carve me a furnace instead of lighting one. “Ask Walt. He used to be a heating & ac guy.” By now it was 9:00 and I didn’t feel comfortable knocking on Walt’s door so late. Will (who was toasty in bed with a space heater and watching movies on his laptop) and I were going to have to tough it out.
We found all the heavy blankets, long underwear and wool socks. I was bundled in bed when the phone rang. It was The Big Daddy. I told him my tale of woe. “It’s so cold in here,” I whined.
“Well, why don’t you make a fire,” he asked.
“A fire? But I’m in bed. What good is that going to do when I’m upstairs and the fireplace that we haven’t used in ten years is downstairs?”
“It would heat up the house. That’s what fires usually do.”
I didn’t care for his attitude.
“Really? Am I supposed to go out looking for wood at 10:00 at night then start a fire? You know you’re not being the least bit helpful.”
“Be like a Scout. It’s called indoor camping.”
Rule #1 for husbands who get to go anywhere warmish in the winter: Don’t say anything from the comfort of a hotel room except “I’m sorry for everything bad that has ever happened to you.”
I cranked up my heating pad, turned off the lights and started thinking…..
*I wonder if I’m going to get carbon monoxide poisoning and be dead in the morning.
*Why don’t I ever get to go anywhere?
*Is tomorrow a shampoo day or a skip day?
*I should pee. (four times)
*Shivering must burn some calories.
*Did I floss?
*What if the nobody can fix the furnace tomorrow? I’ll go to a hotel. In Florida.
*Is that chirping sound the carbon monoxide detector?
*Maybe Neighbor Mark the Woodworker can make me a new staircase.
*If I quit my job how long could I go without spending any money? (a week, maybe)
*The painter hasn’t been back since October. Maybe he’s not returning my calls because he’s in jail.
*Who killed Jon Benet?
*Do I have a headache? Is that how carbon monoxide poisoning starts? I should Google that in the morning if I’m not dead.
*We should get a new lawnmower this year.
*Taxes. Meh.
*I bet the dog has Asperger’s.
*Somehow this is The Big Daddy’s fault even though I can’t figure out how. Yet.
*I need to get baking soda.
*I’ll get new tires on the car on President’s Day. That would be a fun thing to do on my day off.
*They say carbon monoxide is the silent killer.
*I should start walking every day like I used to.
*Natalie Wood on that boat. Sheesh….. she didn’t fall off on her own.
I slept for two hours. The house was 51 degrees when I woke up. I called the heating guy at 7:15 and he said he’d be over by nine.
At 8:30 my neighbor called. “I walked by and your paper was still out. I thought you got carbon monoxide poisoning and were dead so I’m calling to check.”.
Thank you Jesus for sending me people who understand.
The Big Daddy called and I told him about my long, sleepless night. “Carbon monoxide poisoning,” he said. “Heck, the damn thing wasn’t even heating up. You couldn’t get that. I could have told you that.”
Oh sure. After it was all over and done I find out he could have saved me from my night of torment with his Bill Nye science brain.
But what about Natalie Wood I wanted to ask the Smartypants.