Heat Sweet Heat

We finally did it--broke down and turned on the furnace. But this time it wasn't me. Jim's always the hot one in the family. It takes a lot for him to get cold while I walk around the house in twenty layers chattering my teeth out. But you would have been proud of me.

I woke up two mornings ago to the vacuum cleaner and my daughter asking if it was OK if she could vacuum in my bedroom. I was sleeping so late because it was the only toasty place in the trailer, but I had no idea it had been 58 degrees F when Jim woke up. He was so cold, he turned on the gas oven for a few minutes before finally deciding to turn on the furnace.

And not a peep out of me while I combated hypothermia. Nope. Turning on the furnace was totally his decision while I slept a tad longer peacefully, waiting as long as I needed to for heat without complaint. And what did I get for a reward?

Heat sweet heat, baby. I'm lovin' it!

VICTORY IS MINE!

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