Remember the last of the string of maintenance calls I mentioned? It wasn't the last. This morning's was the last, and this morning's was also a halfway surprise. Why's that? I knew they were coming, but I didn't know what time. And why did I know they were coming? Because I called the service call line for this company around 7.30pm yesterday to tell them we had a little bit of a problem.
And what might that problem have been? We had no heat. A very nice young man came to service the heating system yesterday, and the heat never kicked back on. I tried to get it to kick back on, finally, and nothing happened. Not a thing, save a slight whiff of gas from the furnace and a complete absence of any kind of response sound from the unit. (If silence is considered something happening.) I called the company and told them of our issue, and was told they wouldn't be able to get someone here until in the morning. Got off the phone, broke out the twenty degree sleeping bags from the camping stash, brewed up a pot of chai and put it in a thermos, and "toughed it out" over Anne Rice's The Vampire Armand. Set the alarm for 8.15am and thought that would give me PLENTY of time to make myself presentable.
Alarm goes off. I wake up. Hair in a clippy, wearing hot pink socks, sugar skull print pajama pants, and a black long sleeve t-shirt under my beloved red sweater, I fed Totsi the Dog and Foot Foot Kitty and made myself a cup of coffee. Crawled under my sleeping bag and started to check email. It was about 8.30am.
The doorbell rang.
You are damned straight I had to answer the door looking like somewhat hip refried hell. Or a half awake clown trainee. I'm not putting up a photo so you can decide for yourself, so don't even ask.
(The outage was due to some vital wire having been knocked loose, and on top of that the pilot light had been blown out. But it's not quite resolved - the unit ran for an hour or so and then kicked back off. Another service call placed. Technician coming back. Yay.)
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