Out Cold

It was this weekend when it dawned on me that my house felt colder than usual.

I took a look at the thermostat and realized the temperature was lower than it should be, so I pushed a few buttons and walked away.

I didn’t think anything more of it; even when I found myself reaching for another blanket. After all, I’m pretty much always cold. It’s not uncommon for me to keep my jacket on throughout the day at work, or for me to need a few extra layers as I try to get cozy at home.

I grew up in Arizona. Then I lived in San Diego. And even though I’ve been in Alaska for 3 years now, I still suffer through being pretty consistently chilled throughout the wintertime.

So it wasn’t until I walked into the house after work last night that I thought to myself “No wonder the roommate is never here! It’s freezing in this house!”

I wandered over to the thermostat and realized the temp was sitting at 58 degrees.

Then (and only then) did it hit me that the heater was broken.

Luckily my condo is situated directly above a heated garage, so the rising temps from there (and the fact that it’s March and the weather outside is hanging out in the 30’s) kept things from getting too unbearable. 58º is cold, but at least it's still livable.

And it kind of had to be, because at that point (as I was changing out of my work clothes and into my workout gear before running out to Pilates) there just wasn’t a ton I was going to be able to do about the situation.

I figured it would hold until the morning. That I would be able to deal with it today one way or another.

But then, I got home from my workout almost 3 hours later.

And the smell of gas was obvious.

I have a small place, so it doesn't take much for a smell like that to inhabit every room. And at that point, I just wasn't sure how serious an issue this was.

I called my dad (because yes, I am a grown adult woman who still calls her daddy whenever she feels at a loss regarding anything) and woke the poor man up. He instructed me to call either the fire department or the gas company.

I took a peak in the mirror. Calling the fire department was tempting. I had just worked out, and was actually looking halfway decent. Being rescued by firemen didn’t sound half bad.

But I just knew that if it was something stupid and not at all dangerous, I would wind up feeling like an idiot for wasting their time.

So I called the gas company instead, and they said they would send someone out “to make sure it was safe” right away.

5 minutes later there was a knock on the door.

Apparently they take gas leaks pretty seriously. Good to know.

The guy had this gas detector thing that reminded me of something you would see on Supernatural or Ghostbusters. Every time it sounded off I found myself not worried about gas, but wary instead of any lurking ghosts.

I swear, sometimes I am astounded by my own maturity level.

He quickly discovered a cracked igniter and explained that the furnace was busted but was still trying to kick on every 15 minutes or so, which was leading to the gas smell.

Nothing dangerous, just stinky.

And cold.

Either way, I actually gave myself a pat on the back for not calling the fire department.

Because that just would have been embarrassing.

The gas guy shut everything down and told me to bundle up for the night and call a mechanic in the morning. He said it would be a quick fix, and I would just need to get through the night.

He told me to pretend I was camping.

Little did he know that my idea of camping involves being tucked away snug as a bug in a nice heated cabin.

By the time I crawled into bed the temperature had dipped below 55. Not unlivable, but… as a girl who is always cold anyway, I was freezing.

I tried to bundle up. Socks. Sweats. A sweater. Extra blankets. I shot the roommate a text letting her know she might want to sleep at her boyfriends (which let’s face it – she was probably going to do anyway) and then I bunkered down.

Only to spend the rest of the night tensed up with teeth chattering.

Yes, I am a drama queen. But it was cold!

I got up this morning and made a run for the bathroom, where I turned the water to as hot as it would go and thawed myself out in the steam.

Then I looked in the mirror and realized that my sleepless night was written all over my face.

I briefly considered calling in, before realizing that would mean hanging out in my freezing house until someone could come fix it.

I wanted no part of that.

So I got dressed and tried (failed) to cover up my exhaustion with a little concealer.

I made some calls right at 8 o’clock, and around lunch I heard back from the mechanic saying he was on his way to my house. I kid you not, the entire thing was fixed and up and running again in under 5 minutes.

He lectured me about my need for a new furnace (even though the furnace itself is functioning just fine) and then handed me a bill for $200.

$200.

For five minutes worth of work.

I have since done some googling and am more than a little convinced that this was something I could have fixed myself.

I’m also fairly sure that my father would have a heart attack if I told him I was attempting to repair my furnace on my own.

But for $200 – it might have been worth it.

Either way, my house is now warm.

Probably warmer than it should be.

Because it’s possible I turned the heat up too high. Simply because I could.

And tonight?

Tonight I am crawling under my covers and passing out nice and early.

I'm going to pretend I'm camping.

You know - the way camping should actually be done.

With plenty of heat and a nice comfy bed.