... There Must Be Some Toros in the Atmosphere*

My heat went out Saturday. I didn't realize it at first, since I keep the thermostat low in order to save money. It wasn't until I looked at my handy-dandy alarm clock with the built in temperature doodad that I realized it was 57 degrees. And that was upstairs!

Sunday I checked my gas bill status to make sure I'd paid it (I had), and I got the utility company to come out and make sure my pilot light was lit (it was). My hot water heater was working just fine, but I was still freezing.

I tried just turning the heat to ON, but it just blew cold air, which wasn't exactly what I was going for. I knew I had to call my landlord, and I had to face facts:

IT WAS TIME TO CLEAN THE HOUSE.

I spend most of Sunday thinking, "Gosh, I should really start cleaning now," while finding tens of thousands of things I absolutely HAD to look up on the internet. I'd load the dishwasher, or sort the laundry, but nothing that made much of a dent in the clutter.

Finally, just around midnight, I got the cleaning bug. And boy, oh boy, I CLEANED. This house is SPOTLESS.

And you know what? All that cleaning kept me warm for a while.

Then I went in my bedroom, where my handy-dandy alarm clock informed me that it was 51 degrees in there. I lost a little heat from the shock. The cats and I huddled together (Lyndie and Walter called a temporary truce for survival purposes) under my seven-layer bedcoverings and didn't move for five hours. It was hard to get out from under the covers this morning, let me tell you.

I called the landlord today, and the heating guys came out around 7:00 p.m. I was shivering on the couch, wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt under a sweater under a hoodie under a coat under a blanket. The space heater was on high and all the doors were closed in order to preserve as much warmth as possible. The indicator on the thermostat had bent so far to the left it wasn't even visible anymore.

Fortunately, everything's fixed now, and the heat's been running for two solid hours. According to my handy-dandy alarm clock, my bedroom is back up to 69 degrees, which seems downright tropical. And I won't have to dress like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man when I go to bed, which is a bonus.



*get it?