At least once a month our furnace breaks down. The technician that comes to fix it always says this'll be the last time he needs to come here for the season. I always tell him that I'll see him soon. I'm always right, at least until April, when I won't see him again until October/November.
This morning (5:00 am) I was dreaming a pleasant dream about moving back to the country where all you need to keep warm is pile of firewood, when Vicki woke me up and told me the furnace is not working, it's 60 degrees in the house, and it's 15 degrees outside. I guess the phone only connects to the furnace emergency repair operator when I am holding it (the phone, no the operator). So, I got up to make the call. To top things off, our backup LP gas stove (for heating, not cooking) is on the fritz, too. So now, all of our electric heaters are plugged in and sucking up the juice like electricity grows on trees, right next to the money.
I just checked on the kids. Now I know what human popsicles, wrapped in blankets, looks like. They're all still asleep, but not looking too happy. Wait 'til they wake up!
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