It all began yesterday morning as I opened the door to let Dundee, the little white dog, out for a pee. Tail wagging, completely content in his little world of happiness, he bounded out the door for his morning pee. As he did his business, one cold paw lifted up from the ground and began to shake, followed by two cold paws. He continued to alternate paws, although at one point I swear he was only standing on one little white paw. Poor little bugger was freezing. Instead of channeling his inner Huskie, he completely gave up and laid (on his side) in the snow and began to shake. No survival instinct whatsoever, Dundee, the little white dog, completely gave up on life. I cheered from the patio, "C'mon buddy! You can do it. Get up and walk to the door. Just get up! Do it for the Coton de Tulears of Madagascar!" (his breed). Nope. Pleading with me with his little black eyes, he laid shaking and defeated in the cold snow. Running to his rescue in sock feet, I saved my pup from imminent death. Once inside, he gazed up at me with those sad puppy eyes, "How could you do this to me?"
Mother Nature: 1 Dundee, the little white dog: 0
As I pulled into the dark, dismal hospital parking lot at 8am, I was reminded by Power 99 FM that it was -30 degrees in Prince Albert (but Oh Thank God it's still +30 in Jamaica. Incredibly helpful). I popped my hood to release the cord in anticipation of plugging in the Grand Am for the day. Now the Grand Am is a pretty sweet car. It's the special 2002 edition. You may have heard of it. But seriously, other than being trashed by an incredibly arrogant Calgarian ("I thought you made good money? Why are you driving this?") the Grand Am has pulled through, despite being neglected in all areas (do you really need an oil change THAT often?) As I searched for the plug under the hood (in complete darkness), snotsicles began to form on my upper lip (isn't it amazing that we've actually created our own winter vocabulary, unique to our horrific experience of -30??) With giant fuzzy mitts, I attempted to lift the hood and seek the much needed cord. Hands shaking, ears stinging, and visions of Dundee falling helplessly to the snow, I muttered, "can't see the f'n cord!" and gave up. Fully aware that the Grand Am would likely not start, I ran outside at 2 hour intervals throughout the day to let it run. This worked just fine until it was time to call it a day. At 4:30, the Grand Am, like the little white dog, did not even try. Didn't even roll over. Click. Dead.
Mother Nature: 1, Grand Am: 0
The final straw occurred as I returned home for the day. Snuggled happily on the couch, and Evan on nightshift, I watched The Bachelor without guilt. As the drama heated up, my house cooled down. Right down. It became uncomfortably cold. Checking the thermostat, I could see that it was currently 15 degrees in my house. The thermostat was set for 21. Something was wrong. By 10pm, I had Guy, our trusty builder frantically calling Furnace Fixers (let's call them FF's) and the temperature had fallen to 13 degrees inside the house. Did I mention that this house is 2 months old? The furnace is a whopping 2 months old! Like, what - you didn't think you'd have to work this hard, furnace? You never stood a chance against Mother Nature! C'mon!
Mother Nature: 1, Furnace: 0.
I was now shaking in front of the fireplace. Guy assured me that FF#1 would be at my door by midnight. Perfect. Because what lady doesn't want to open the door to a complete stranger at midnight? He would assess the situation, realize that I was cold, alone, at his mercy and I would be ladynapped..or worse. I've seen Criminal Minds. I quickly updated my facebook status:
"midnight. -30 degrees outside. Broken furnace. Brand new house. If tomorrow I am MIA, I have: a)frozen to death (current indoor temp=13), b)been smothered by one of the 80 blankets that I'm currently wrapped in (why don't I own a snuggie?) and/or c) furnace repairman sketch and ladynapped me. Just sayin'"
I saw this on Dateline once. I was leaving a trail. FF#1 arrived at midnight. As he entered the house, I examined him closely. Guard dog, Dundee, bounded on him, ferociously licking his hand. He petted Dundee. FF #1 seemed OK. Well, he seemed pissed, to be honest. I mean, who wouldn't be pissed after being woken up at midnight on the coldest night of winter (wait, wait, spoke too soon. This just in: TONIGHT will be even colder! Hurrah!) Although I exuded sexiness in my touque, scarf, and 8 layers of clothing, FF #1 did not try to ladynap me. In fact, he went straight out to the side of the house to investigate the vents. I explained that I had already done this (via telephone instruction by Evan), but he proceeded to head outside. Suddenly, I heard a bang. I looked out the window to find FF#1 flat on his back, having become a victim to the slippery slope. FF #1 bellowed, "F*(^!!!!!" Poor dude. I pondered. Reminiscent of Dundee, the little white dog, I wondered If I should run out in sock feet and rescue him? FF #1 slowly stood up, kicked the fence, the side of the house, uttered more threats, and limped back inside.
Mother Nature: 1, Furnace Fixer: 0.
The night continued with FF #1 and additional FF #2, #3, and #4. They banged away on the furnace as Dundee, the little white dog, and Biloxi, the cat, and I sat shivering in front of the fireplace like a scene from Little House on the F'n Prairie. I was starting to wonder if I should head out to Nancy's yard and steal some straw from the dogs. I became angry. Very very angry. Why, again, did I choose to live in such a horrendous climate? Finally, at 4am I made a pact to myself, "As blog as my witness, I am going to leave. I am going to divorce the Saskatchewan winter." I needed a plan. I searched speech pathology jobs in the Caribbean. So, what, no one has strokes in the Caribbean? Obviously not, their bodies aren't being subjected to this! By 5am, I gave up on finding a speech job and decided to sell it all and peddle bracelets on the beach in Mexico. By 6am, I channeled Dundee, the little white dog, rolled over on my side, whimpered in the cold (Can I seriously see my breath?), and gave up.
The heat was restored at noon the next day. Noon. That's 17 hours with no heat.
Mother Nature: 1, Kirstie: 0.
You win.
Sorry you had to endure that. But, hilarious post!
ReplyDeleteKara Cantin