I have always heard stories of people who came home and unexpectedly didn’t have heat or electricity for one reason or another and marvelled at how well they seemed to handle it. It seems most people deal with situations like that without much fuss. They might complain but they sort of get on with things, like it’s Little House on the Prairie and they were just waiting for the lights to go out so they could try those neat oil lamps they had been keeping in the closet.
Yeah, I don’t do that.
I deal poorly. I cry, panic, get snarky. I yell at Bub on the phone to get his ass home and I snip at people who don’t do what I say fast enough. And you know what they say about yelling at people when you want them to do something? They say nothing about it because people are rarely stupid enough to yell at the person they need the most.
Today I came home and found our boiler broken. That means we don’t have any heat. My mother has been in this house all day without heat. Our house is cold in the summer; in the winter it can be a training camp for adventurers travelling to the South Pole.
When I evenutally got the guy on the phone who was meant to service our boiler in September and again in November but didn’t show up, I had to do everything in my power not to tell him that THIS IS ALL HIS FECKING FAULT. Just like that. In caps.
Instead I told him that he blew me off twice and that if he wouldn’t mind coming tonight so my family and I didn’t end up reenacting Alive that would be great! And he showed up. And the boiler is well and truly fecked and won’t be fixed before tomorrow at the earliest.
Tonight Mister Man is sleeping with the electric heater in his room, mom will have the electric blanket from our bed on her bed and Bub can have the hot water bottle under the duvet to keep him warm. Know where I am sleeping tonight? Right in front of this:
Just call me Laura Ingalls.