If we were English as in Engy-land, today's date would be 2112. For those of you unfamiliar with the prog rock stylings of Rush, that's one of their albums, and it is quite good. Epic. It is also today's date. And making 2112 into December 12th, it is also my sister's birthday.
So everyone should go over to her journal. EVERYONE. She hasn't updated it in a little while. Harass her to do so, and then wish her a very happy. You can leave anonymous comments in her journal. But say who you are and where you came from and I'm sure she'll get a laugh. Or... you can mail her at ljf1221 at gmail dot com and send her e-cards and lots of love there too.
Flood the bitch.
I do this because she always gets ripped off every year because her birthday falls four stupid days before Christmas, so I always feel badly that the shuffle of the holiday envelopes and consumes the most important day in an individual's little year. And gobs of loving attention from random weirdo strangers would be something that I bet she'd find amusing. I want you to go forth and bestow upon her many pounds of love and blessing. Please, take a second out of your busy day and do so.
And, if you really want to reach back into the way-out machine, go to the archives to 2001 when I wrote this gem of a piece as a gift to her. I didn't have any money to send her a present (and I am lazy and figured a huge journal article about her wonderousness would compensate for lack of wrapped doo-dads and gimbaughs).
And oftentimes, letting someone know that they changed your life forever when you were three and it wasn't a BAD thing at all (the way you probably thought it was when you were three, or ten, or fifteen) is the best gift you can give. Thanks to the internet, I can point that out every year and remind her that I love her beyond imagination.
Happy birthday, Linda. I know you're reading this. Brace your mailbox for at least five emails!
We have had a rough week. I got home from work on Tuesday night and the house was freezing cold. Absolutely freezing. I checked the thermostats and they were all comfortably set on about 60, so I cranked them to 70 to kick start the furnace. I started a fire in the woodstove and after a few minutes realized I didn't hear the old bitch kick on downstairs.
The furnace... was silent.
When we had the home inspection, the dude said that in his opinion, it would eventually need to be replaced, probably next summer would be a good time. I never imagined it would croak ass on me in December, a mere seven months after we moved in.
Doug got home and I sent him downstairs. If you're familiar with the movie "A Christmas Story" you know the dad would go downstairs to wage battle with the furnace, and swear and yell and carry on while black smoke belched through the wall grates and up the staircase. Well, it wasn't that bad, but Doug did come upstairs and yell fake swears like the dad in the movie, and yelled "It's a clunker!" which is one of the coherent things that comes out of movie dad's mouth.
We had a good laugh, mostly because we strive to find amusement in even the crappiest of events... knowing that the furnace was out, we had to make jokes to mask the sudden fear that ...
we'd have no heat that night. Aside from the woodstove... and we're not really equipped to sleep in the livingroom. Hard floors and nothing cozy to sleep on top of, I found myself kicking my own ass for not buying a couple of aerobeds when I had the chance.
I called our service provider, they pointed us to Keyspan. It was already 7pm, and I was up to my elbows in making chicken parm... The guy said someone would be there by midnight. Well, ain't that just grand.
My mind painted a picture of the guy showing up at 11:30 and needing to be here until 2 am working on the clunker. I thought for sure I'd be up all night.
He was here at 7:30, and gone by 10. He made similar banging noises and was kind of like the dad in "A Christmas Story" but no obscenities flew out of his mouth.
The furnace got going, but he pointed out exactly what was wrong (flow control valve thingies were corroded so the thermostats didn't know what to do... pilot light was out... furnace was a piece of 40 year old crap). He gave us a list of everything that needed to be repaired, and a quote of $7000, for parts, installation and labor. He said to go ahead and get other quotes, but that we should move fast because "If I were a betting man, I'd say it's gonna be dead in about a month. So you should start thinking about starting to think about getting it replaced."
Shite on a shingle.
A few nights ago I wanted to go buy a livingroom set for the front room, and use that savings money to do so. Now I'm glad we didn't... because I don't want to have to go to the well too much and drain it. And both would drain us dry. So I think the front room waits, and the furnace gets replaced. And we don't move into the woodstove room to camp for the rest of the winter.
Anyway -- I gotta jet. I just really wanted to get the news out to go harass a little sister, and dispatch you to do so now. Leave me a comment and let me know if you did. My Mr. Burns-ian "Excellent" will hang around you as you do so.
Now! Go! Bestow birthday wishes, my monkeys! Do my bidding! Mwah ha ha ha!