On the Joys of Home Ownership and Having the Husband of the Year

Last night I was up at 11:30, having fun with this makeover tool (thanks Mary for pointing it out).  The hairstyles all look ridiculous but it does help test out lipstick colors.  Anyway, there I was imprudently and irresponsibly wasting time on the internet when I should have been in bed (so I thought).  And then,

BOOM

And oh boy, what a boom (to misquote Dr. Seuss).  Turns out it came from our circa 1963 oil furnace.  I went downstairs, smelled smoke, and saw this:

IMG_0761

These pieces used to be attached.

These pieces used to be attached.

I trudged back up the stairs, using this for the first time since we’ve lived here:

IMG_0759

So basically there was some sort of explosion in our furnace.

I woke up Pat, who had been sleeping in bed and hadn’t heard the sound.  I had been sitting almost directly above the furnace, and I guess it was loudest where I was.  This makes me feel a bit better about staying up late, because if I hadn’t heard it, the furnace would have stayed on all night and who knows what would have happened.

Pat got up and got a fire going in the fireplace.  Not seeing anything I could do to help, I went to bed and slept.

And I kept sleeping as Pat tended the fireplace all night.

And I kept sleeping as Pat gave Girl 1 her nebulizer treatment when she woke up at 4 am coughing.

And I kept sleeping as Pat gave Girl 2 her bottle when she woke up at 4:30.

And I kept sleeping as Pat got up with both girls when they were up for the morning at 7:30.

And I kept sleeping as Pat dropped Girl 1 off at school and took Girl 2 with him.

When I finally dragged my lazy bones out of bed, I saw this makeshift baby guard around the fireplace.

IMG_0758We have the heating guy coming tomorrow morning.  I might see if I can find someone else to come earlier because it’s cold outside and we’re going through a lot of wood.

But first I’m awarding Pat with this:

and perhaps more to the point, baking him an apple crisp.

More updates to come . . . .

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