So, if you’ll recall, I challenged myself not to turn on my heat until after Thanksgiving. Yes? And I succeeded! Just a tiny space heater kept me warm until Thanksgiving…or so I thought.
On Friday, Mike showed up at my apartment and we went to the Winking Lizard for dinner. We hung out with my friend Greg and some other folks, and then went home. Mike asked me, “Why haven’t you turned on your heat yet?”
…I thought I had. We began investigating the thermostat. It clicked when we moved it, but the auto setting wouldn’t turn on the fan. And then when we turned it on, it simply blew cold air. It was too late to do anything about it, and the next morning we were going to my parents’ house, so we just called the next day. They didn’t call back until I made it home, and then they said they’d send someone to look at it.
When we returned on Sunday, it was 57 degrees in there. They hadn’t fixed it. I paged the emergency number (to no avail) and Mike (my manly manly man who had spent all day buying chainsaws and cutting wood with my father) took the damn furnace apart and figured out that I had never lit my pilot light. Duuurrrrr.
So he lit it, fired up my heater, and you all can thank him for the fact that I am here at work today, blogging on my lunch break, and not frozen somewhere in my apartment.
Thanks for being so manly, baby! And for cutting wood and fixing my heater. 😉