I haven’t forgotten the circle of fire. I bought my rocks.
However, it poured most of the day. The element was water, not fire.
And ice. Ice cold. At least according to the girl from Arizona.
Despite my well thought out spiritual plans, yesterday looked something like this….
I replace the batteries in the thermostat because darn it, the house is cold. And the thermostat is on…why wasn’t it working? I set it at 65 degrees and it won’t get above 55! The batteries are new now, there should be no excuse for that damn thing! It was just checked…by the Gas and Electric Guy, referred to specifically in my previous writings! Mr. G and E gave my furnace a clean bill of health!
What the heck!
My teenager doesn’t get out of bed. Around 11 am she comes down and pounds on the thermostat herself. She is sure I’m an idiot and it’s my fault it doesn’t work.
We leave. We visit the barn. I come back alone; she’s gone to her dad’s. I hate that transition, I’m like a five year old child of divorce myself, angry, fussy, and disappointed.
The house is still ice cold.
Up, down. Into the garage. I feeeeellll the furnace. Ice cold. I bang on the outside panel…maybe it’s not on right!
It makes a noise! Whoppee! I must have fixed it.
I go inside. I wait ten minutes. I feel the vents. It’s freezing.
I go back outside. Now I smell gas. Just a bit.
I repeat the process. I smell more gas.
I call my friend in California. “Call the gas company” he says. “NOW!”
So I call the gas company. They ask me detailed questions about where I smell the gas. “Open the garage doors” a gal named Tanisha advises.
“Manually!” she says as I push the electric button for the doors.
“Oh well” she says, with less enthusiasm than I might have anticipated given I didn’t just blow myself up. “It’s okay-someone’s coming. Leave the house if you smell gas inside.”
Half an hour later, still no prince or princess in shining armor, or a natural gas uniform at least.
“He’s coming” says Tanisha when I call again.
And come he did. One very cute thirty year old who explained that my ignitor was cracked. I looked my absolute best, too, wrapped in a sweater, a blanket, a hat, and gloves while he cheerfully added that despite the previous bill of good furnace health, the ignitor could go “at any time”.
He provided a helpful analogy. “Like your tires”, he said.
“Makes you wonder about being a homeowner” he says brightly, then provides an ancillary explanation as to why I still have hot water (separate system), a fact that I’m grateful for.
“I’d sleep in my bathtub if I wouldn’t drown.” I comment with some degree of wit, given that it’s now nearly 11 pm.
He checks his buzzing cell phone. “Vancouver” he says brightly.
Mr. Cute and too young for me and married Gas and Electric Guy gives me a number for the repair places that will charge me around $200 for the fixing the furnace that three weeks ago was just fine.
“Got off easy” he says. “If it was really broken, it’d be $600”.
He zips off, and I put my cold body into my minivan and drive to the 24 hour Walgreens and buy myself a state of the art space heater. Nifty. Twenty five percent off.
I’ll be using it tonight, too, because the repair people can’t come until tomorrow.
Comedy always follows tragedy, and earth will conquer spirit.
So no cleansing circle of fire today. For now, it’s me, the dog, the cats and a space heater.