Little House on the Raritan

This past Sunday, we lost heat in our house. Let me break it down for you. Sunday evening, there was a blizzard – we’re talking 30 fucking inches of snow by Monday morning and 50+ mph wind gusts. The snow drifts were up to the top of the railing on our deck, and the non-drifted areas up to one’s waist. While the storm was raging outside, my dad was stressing about the sub-pump failing in our basement because it tends to do that when it floods down there – which is frequently. If the sub-pump failed, it would over flood and burn out the furnace, thus cutting off our heat. Since he just had his surgery the week before, he wouldn’t be able to go down and fix it. My dad is notoriously the voice of doom, so I figured it was going to happen. And when we woke up Monday morning to a freezing house and a popping noise coming from below the floor boards, we knew it wasn’t good.

We called our neighbor and friend, who went downstairs for my dad and tried to fix the problem, but couldn’t. His girlfriend (who is also our neighbor) brought over some space heaters to help out. My aunt called and told us she knew someone who worked with my uncle who also had a heating business on the side. She gave this dude our sob story (we totally played the gimp card), and he said he’d come over and fix it for us. That night, I slept with five blankets on and a beanie on my head. My mom wore about ten scarves and my dad looked like he was preparing to climb Mount Everest.

The guys who worked on the new furnace swore like sailors (and this is coming from someone who has no problem with cursing), blasted their music, and got into loud arguments. It was very unprofessional and annoying (especially with the thudding of their music at 8:30 in the morning), but we really can’t complain – right? Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, or whatever that saying is.

Our heat wasn’t fixed until yesterday afternoon, so we spent three and a half days without heat. Even though we had the space heaters and my mom hung sheets over our doorways (it was very Moroccan chic!), it was still cold as hell. And very drafty. So I told mom it was like Little House on the Prairie – an adventure. Oh, I forgot to mention that our cable went out as well, and we kept knocking out the power with our space heaters. Reenacting “The Money Pit” is not as fun as it sounds.


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