Whew! Last night was the coldest night of the year. This almost-winter season, anyway. And you know what the coldest night of the year signals, right?
THE MANSION FURNACE QUITS!
Throws in the towel, packs up its personal effects in an old shoebox, and leaves Mrs. Hillbilly Mom and family without a liveable ambient temperature. Okay. We can survive over the short term. It's not like we're above the arctic circle, scooping out a snow cave.
Last night as I went to bed at 3:30 a.m., I glanced at the thermostat. I've been freezing for three days. Farmer H, the diplomat, says it's because I've lost a fat layer. He's a silver-tongued devil, that Farmer H. I'd hate to say he's right. It probably has something to do with my lack of a thyroid, my sensitivity to cold and heat. When I walk by and look at the thermostat, it's always on 70. That's for heat. We keep it on 74 for summer. I know my feeling of freezing is just me. Temps in the Mansion are constant.
Last night at 3:30 a.m., the thermostat said 67. Yet it was still set to hold on 70.
I wouldn't put it past Farmer H to fiddle with the furnace. He has done it before. Switched it over to Emergency Heat, saying he was giving it a rest. Funny how he never does anything to give ME a rest. Anyhoo...that never works out, because the furnace is not as warm on Emergency Heat. Go figure.
Farmer H had been up, stomping around on his footless ankles, from bed to bathroom. I made him take his head out from under the quilt and talk to me through his breather. He swore he didn't do anything to the furnace.
This morning before he left for work, he woke me. He said he put it on Emergency Heat this morning, and it didn't run. So he would call somebody to come look at it. When he put it back on regular heat, the temp was 66. He said to turn on the electric fireplace.
We have always had furnace trouble. The bad news is that Farmer H has connections with heating and cooling people through work, and got us a deal on BOTH furnaces we've had. He's gotten floor models for cheap. The good news is that Farmer H has connections with heating and cooling people through work, and whenever the furnace or air conditioner conks out, we can get a repair person here the same day.
I'm sitting around looking like Lou Diamond Phillips in an 80s movie, wearing a quilted-lining plaid flannel shirt (over my pajamas), top two buttons done, and a sock cap pulled snug down over my ears.
It's a sad day when my cold, cold heart is the warmest thing in the house.