When I came home a couple of Saturdays ago after yoga, I noticed that our house was pretty cold. I didn't think anything of it at first because it is not unlike P to open all the windows when the outside temperature hits a whopping 40 degrees. (With five fur-children, fresh air is absolutely necessary.) After awhile I couldn't take it anymore and when I suggested that we turn up the heat, P replied with, "I'm working on it."
I'm working on it.
Um. What is there to work on? We have a furnace. When we turn up the thermostat, our furnace kicks on. Like magic. Because that's what furnaces do.
P walked downstairs to "work on it." Whatever "it" was.
I was very confused. And so, I started firing a million questions because that's what I do when I find myself in a stressful situation. This has a calming effect on everyone involved, as you can imagine.
Me: Is something broken?
P: I don't know yet.
Me: Well, is our furnace not kicking on at all?
P: I'm working on it.
Me: Oookaaay. So, our furnace is not working.
P: We might be out of oil.
Me: How can we be out of oil?
P: I saw we were getting low and I was going to call last week.
Me: But you didn't?
P: I was going to.
Me: Why didn't you?
P: Because I didn't think we needed it yet.
You see, my husband is one of those people who doesn't think he needs to put gas in the car until the light comes on to tell him it's time to fill up. Why don't homes have lights to alert you when it is time to refuel? If this exists, we need this. If this doesn't exist, someone needs to invent this ASAP. If you are taking this idea and running with it, don't forget who planted this seed in your head (you can email me at email@example.com to learn where you can send me a percentage of your profits). Seriously, don't be greedy.
And so we spent our weekend in a house that averaged about 59 degrees while the outside temperature was in the 30s (we hit a low point of 57 by the end of the weekend). If that doesn't sound cold to you, I dare you to live in your house for 48 hours with your inside temperature at 59 degrees. I promise you, it's colder than you think.
The oil finally came on Monday around 3pm (because clearly our oil company didn't think it was an emergency - or at the very least a top priority - when my husband explained that we didn't have heat for over 48 hours and that I was currently working at home with five fur-children in a freezing cold house - thanks, oil company). Of course, the heat still didn't kick on because I guess when your house runs out of oil you have to bleed the oil because your pipes fill with air (or something like that). When the heat came on at last, I think our cats were the happiest of all.
P and I celebrated by cranking the temperature up to 80 and lounging around in our underwear for the rest of the evening. Because that's what responsible adults do when they have a full oil tank.