So, how was your Thanksgiving?
Or have you already forgotten about Thanksgiving with the looming presence of the jolly fat man?
Poor Thanksgiving…it’s kind of the forgotten step-child of the other holidays. Do you think the other holidays make fun of Thanksgiving when it leaves the room to go take a tryptophan-induced nap?
Anyway…our thanksgiving was very nice- thank you for asking. The dinner was delicious, the company was engaging, and the weather was relatively nice for Wisconsin…no blizzards or anything, I mean.
Brisket, Li and I went up to the cabin on Friday for a long weekend. I just wanted to pause here to say that our cabin may have it out for us. More and more regularly we’ve been experiencing various “adventures”. Giant blood-sucking bugs, Ebola-virus fueled fevers, runaway horses…and now freezing to death.
I might exaggerate for effect every now and then…just a bit.
Scene: Saturday night. Midnight.
After lazing around the fireplace all day, and watching horrible cable television, Brisket and I decide to head to bed. I notice our bedroom is chilly. Freezing actually. Brisket is buried in 15 pounds of goose down and doesn’t notice. I head into the main room and check the thermostat- 70 degrees on the dot.
Well, I think, it is warm in here- we’ve had a fire going all day! I’ll just bump it up 5 degrees to warm up the bedrooms. I expect the furnace to kick on, so I wait…and wait…and wait some more.
I turn it up higher to 80 degrees, and wait for the furnace to start up.
I turn off the thermostat (because it’s like a computer needing rebooting, right?) and then back on. I hear the furnace kick on…but that telltale draft of warm air is suspiciously missing.
I start to panic a bit thinking about how cold it is outside…and how cold it will be inside by morning…
I get Brisket out of his warm cocoon to help. Because he is obviously a furnace repair man in his spare time…
So, it’s the middle of the night and our furnace* is not working. And where would our furnace be located? Ah, yes…the uninsulated crawl space under the cabin.
Rather than force Brisket to crawl under the house in the pitch black blackness of our crawl space with the spiders and random rabid animals (I would have given him a flashlight to defend himself!), I freak out a bit about everyone freezing to death (MY BAYBEE WILL BE COLD!) and decide we all need to sleep in the living room next to the fireplace…and a tiny space heater. Laura Ingalls style.
Did you know that two logs of firewood will burn for approximately an hour before it stops giving heat?
Guess who does now?
*Turns out that we ran out of propane. Not too hard to fix- just a pain to find out in the middle of the night.