I cried last week. For those of you who know me well, crying is not my forte. If I had to save the world by crying, we would all be doomed. Now if I could use crying and jokes maybe we could be saved, but I certainly could not do it with crying alone.
All this crying was the boiler’s fault. Thursday afternoon, Jess announced that the boiler was irreparable. I don’t think either one of us completely knew how to process this information. We were feeling fairly low. As any emotionally intact woman would do, I quickly whipped together a batch of rosemary and parmesan scones to make us feel better. Somehow they did not fix our heating dilemma, but they were tasty. We threw the uneaten scones at that damn boiler.
Friday rolled around and we had a lovely dinner at a friend’s house, which helped both of us take our minds off our situation. Saturday we escaped to Toronto to help celebrate Jess’ parents 50th wedding anniversary. Sunday we made the trek back to the County with minus 11 degree weather. We returned to an absolutely freezing house. It was tolerable by Monday morning as the pellet stoves had a chance to heat us up a little bit. I am grateful that my kids spend their weekdays in a heated school.
It is now a new week. Winter is here and it is beautiful. Jess has been working tirelessly on the boiler and has it mostly working. He reprogrammed, and repaired and it works but not to capacity. It may get us through the winter. We have a plumber on our crew that started today. His job is to install the manifolds, the pumps and tie up any loose ends.
I’m going to say it again, I’m sure we will have heat by next week. Even though I keep saying that, I still believe it to be true.