Thank the (land) lord, I have heat
For the last few weeks,
I've been without heat in my house. Grrreat timing with the temps dipping to freezing.
I've been dressing for hikes in the Sierras (sans hiking boots) just to go to bed. Without gloves, I put on socks to keep my hands warm.
Without my large heating pad, I might have turned into Lucy the million years old skeleton.
Even my cats huddled together around the one space heater I thought safe to use. Safe on the electric bill, as well.
I was so wrong on that! I could have bought a Tesla with the money PGE charged me for the month. (Damn
PGE! But that's another column.)
The heating expert who came out to fix the furnace found soot on top of soot. He recommended that I have the furnace checked every two years. I've been here for almost eight years and never once thought I should have the furnace checked. I've owned a car since my teens and I've always gotten a maintenance check for each car.
I owned a 50 foot liveaboard yacht with twin Ford Lehman engines that I had a regular maintenance schedule. No way did I want to have engine problems out in the ocean!
I don't know why I hadn't thought about maintenance checks on the furnace. The main reason was, I hadn't thought of the furnace as a machine. I just thought; if it ain't broke, don't fix it. The cold weather has showed me the error of that thinking.
Now that I have heat, the house is warm. So warm that the first afternoon nap with heat turned into an all-night snooze. So I've turned the temperature down to 58F at night. Same temperature as when the furnace didn't work. Guess my body got used to the cold.
When I moved from Sri Lanka (where I spent 14 years) to Lake County, I couldn't bear cold weather. The average temperature in the coastal areas where I lived in Sri Lanka was 86F. Here, I would start shivering around 72F.
I now own several winter coats. I feel grateful for every layer of warm clothes that I have. Most of the layers were given to me by my daughter. Probably because she heard my teeth chatter when she called me.
It's not like my landlord ignored my cry for help. First I thought I had run out of fuel so I ordered some. Then I thought my handyman could fix the furnace. He couldn't. I finally called my landlord, who came out several times. Unable to find the problem, he called a professional. That fellow quickly found the problem and fixed it. Hallelujah!
Now my oldest cat has reclaimed his spot right by the furnace and I can run around the house without wearing a coat, a jacket, a scarf, socks for gloves and insulated long johns under my sweat pants.
What's a girl to do?…call the pro to clean the furnace in March 2026. I've marked it on my calendar.
I now own several winter coats. I feel grateful for every layer of warm clothes that I have. Most of the layers were given to me by my daughter. Probably because she heard my teeth chatter when she called me.
It's not like my landlord ignored my cry for help. First I thought I had run out of fuel so I ordered some. Then I thought my handyman could fix the furnace. He couldn't. I finally called my landlord, who came out several times. Unable to find the problem, he called a professional. That fellow quickly found the problem and fixed it. Hallelujah!
Lucy Llewellyn Byard is currently a columnist for the Record-yBee. To contact her, email lucywgtd@gmail.com