It’s 56 degrees in my house. I am wearing wool socks that I think I stole from Kizz when we lived in Michigan. shoes. flannel pants. sweatshirt. fuzzy hat. pashmina scarf. I’m wearing this all RIGHT NOW. it’s 8:29 in the freakin a.m. and I’m dressed for a trek to the tundra.
Obviously, my heater is broken. Brokeback heater. Screaching, and thumping, and scratching and screaming like the lost souls of the damned are trapped inside. Well. I want them to STAY!
Call the landlord you say? Duh. One would think that would be the perfect solution! That’s what They are for, yes?
But I have a housefull of contraband kitties.
and the landlord gives me the willies.
Good news! Just talked to my heat-repairing friend. He’s sending someone. Hopefully this a.m. I have rescheduled my one appointment for an hour later…hope against hope that this will be fixed. and soon.
I am FREEZING MY BIPPY OFF!!!