Well, that's not exactly true. The good news is that I was stupid enough to let my oil run out, thereby necessitating the oil guy to have to prime the furnace, thereby discovering that the thing wouldn't restart, thereby requiring the service guys to come, thereby discovering that the inside of my furnace was basically eroded away to the point where flames were just a piece of sheet metal away from burning down my entire house. The other good news is that one of the furnace guys looked a lot like Chris Martin. Who is pretty cute in my opinion.
Not only were we lucky enough to track down a similar sized furnace that would fit nicely under the existing ductwork, but the guys were able to pull some folks off a new construction job just a few towns away, they were able to come over, take out the old furnace, put in the new one, and this all went down before the kids got home from school. To think that everything happened just so, humbles me and fills me with gratitude. No doubt I have a great posse working for me "on the other side."
Well, i was saving up to finish my porch, but since it's about oooooh, what, seven degrees out? i felt that a new furnace was a more practical purchase. I find it ironically ironic with a ton of irony on top, that a cute little rodent could force me to spend that amount of money on a BIG UGLY METAL BOX. This makes those pictures of squirrels over on Eh-Me's page seem all the funnier. Actually, here's the deal: if I think too hard about the little squirrel who lost his way down my chimney, got stuck in my furnace and died trying to chew his way out, well, i break down sobbing for his innocent little soul. So I try not to think about that. Instead, I look at the HVAC guys' cute bums.
Studies have shown that chicks dig guys who have the ability to install big fire-making boxes in their houses. It's something that pre-dates HVAC, can be traced back to the cave days. You can look good in your bearskin, you can have opposable thumbs and a large vocabulary of grunts, but boys, it don't mean a thing if you can't start that fire. That sounded way more metaphorical than I intended. Moving right along:
It didn't start right away and we were getting a bit worried - as it was down to 50 degrees here at Annie's Magic Cottage, we could all see our breath, and the kids were due back from school any minute.... but they got that sucker fired up. And although they had been acting manly and annoyed-like at my picture-taking all afternoon, the second they started this beast they actually CALLED for me to "take one for the blog!" So here are my beloved fire-starters (after arguing a bit over who would get to hold the wrench and who would get to hold the big manly power drill....)
I believe it was Charlie Blake who once asked why we keep you guys around, if we find you so annoying, with all your burping, farting, throwing your laundry on the floor and not putting the terlit seat down. I will just say, look at the above picture, and that about sums it up for me. I don't care if you burp, fart, and are never able to find your keys, wallet, or the hamper. I don't care if you have a hairy back. I don't care if you have never learned a second language. Don't care what you drive or if you know one goddamn html command. But bring fire to help keep my babies warm? Me love you long time.
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