It's been a long few weeks. As is tradition, my asthma and allergies have exploded. It's ragweed season and it's been a warm fall, so while I'm not deathly ill like last Fall, it's not been fun. Things should turn around this week, though. Tonight we're supposed to get a good frost. Like a below freezing, bring the plants and small children in kind of frost. My lungs and sinuses are rejoicing. I'm happy, Winter is my favorite time of year and it's on it's way!
And, yet, there is a reason to NOT celebrate. Around six o'clock tonight I decided it was a bit nippy in the house so I decided it was time to switch on the heat. The thermostat said 60 degrees, it was chilly. I switched on the heat, waiting for the click and the rush of air from the vents. I got nothing. I turned the thermostat up to 75. Nothing. I turned the switch on and off. Nothing. I turned on the air conditioning, turned it down to 50 and waitied. Whoosh! I was rewarded with a rush of cool air. I turned the switch to heat and was again plunged into silence. I trudged down the basement stairs and stared down the furnace. The stove was on, so the gas was working. I switched a switch on and off. Or off and on. Nothing. I stared at the old-fashioned fuse that was plugged in above the mysterious switch. Nothing. I poked it. Nothing. I went upstairs and gave the landlady a buzz.
She returned my call an hour later, came over, stared down the unit, and called her furnace guy. The furnace guy showed up, landlady in tow. After some banging and clanging they gave me the bad news. The furnace needed a part. A part that could not be obtained at 8:30 at night.
They wished me well and got the hell out of my icebox.
I survived five days in Louisville without heat after a January ice storm knocked out the power, but that was in a new house. A house with new windows and carpet. I suspect my drafty, wood floored apartment will not fare as well.
Send blankets.
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