Blurb: Last weekend there was a panic about my safety, and the
fire department wanted to break down the door. That was a false
alarm, but nobody knew of the true crisis.
Everything that happened last week now makes sense... My extreme
aversion of getting out of bed and many complaints about being
cold. It was the real problem that led to the fear that something
was wrong. Nobody knew about the true crisis because no one
actually came inside my apartment
I must admit, I feel like an idiot now. What kind of dolt can't
tell the difference between winter cold and a broken heater?
Well, technically, it's not even winter yet. Try telling that to
the temperature and wind-chill factor that was in single digits.
Joseph was spending the weekend with his father. He wasn't home
to tell me something was wrong. I didn't pick up on it, because
it was freezing outside, and my neuropathy doesn't react well to
If you read the blog I posted last Saturday, you know I was COLD!
That was only the beginning. When I woke up on Sunday, I was
chilled to the bone and jumped right back in bed. I had a friend
coming over. I had to get up. But, oh god, it was cold.
I dressed in some warm clothes, had soup for lunch, bundled up in
a blanket and wore my fingerless gloves -- And I was still
freezing. My friend arrived and was immaturely concerned about
the temperature in my apartment. She could hear the furnace motor
making noises, but no heat came out of the vents.
She called my father, who came right over. He confirmed that the
heater was broken and went to work trying to fix it. He did
different things, went out to buy parts and even missed his dog's
agility class so he could get me heat. Nothing worked.
My dad turned on the oven and opened the door. The landlord
brought a space heater with him. He got the heat back on, took
his space heater and left. It felt so good to have heat... for a
I knew it would take time for the apartment to warm up. As Sunday
progressed, however, it seemed like I was getting cold again.
And, so, I was. In fact my gummy worms, which I stole from
Joseph, were nearly frozen.
At 7:00 PM, I couldn't stand it any longer. I got into bed and
all the way under the covers. So did Bast. We stayed there for
hours. I wasn't sleeping, just trying to escape the cold.
After his other dog's agility class, my dad came back and
confirmed, again, that the heater wasn't working. I sort of
figured that. He turned on the oven and opened the door. Through
an email, he said that he and the landlord would be over first
thing in the morning.
This is the second reason I am a fool. Why did I stay in a frigid
apartment? I know it's silly, but I couldn't leave my cat. She
was using me to keep warm. With all the dogs my dad has (three),
I couldn't take Bast with me. The only option I could come up
with was to stay.
I put on my (not so) sexy long underwear, a pair of Joseph's ski
socks, my winter cap and fingerless gloves. Then Bast and I
crawled back under my covers and wouldn't come out for anything.
My dad and the landlord arrive in the morning and fixed the
heater... again. I chose to stay in bed and sleep until the
apartment was warm. It was great to wake up to a cozy
All was well when my assistant came to get my debit card so she
could grocery shop for me. As time passed, I began to feel chilly
again. I thought I must be delusional. Out came the broken and
and fingerless gloves.
Could this really be happening again? Yes. My assistant noted
that the temperature was dropping. She could hear the furnace
making sounds, but it wasn't producing any heat. OH, $#!%!!!
My dad was on the road fetching Joseph. My cell phone is still
broken, and my braille TTY isn't here. I crossed my fingers and
sent an email to my landlord. Thankfully, he received it and sent
someone over right away. The heater was fixed... yet, again.
I was not feeling confident it was truly repaired. I dreaded the
thought of being plunged back into that frozen hell. Maybe
there's a reason three is my favorite number. The third fix did
the job. I'm loving the heat. I've also learned not to take such
"little" things for granted. You never know how important
something is until you lose it. Now pass me another gummy
Angela C. Orlando
December 2nd, 2013
contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org.