Baby, It's Cold Inside

A Nor'easter is in progress here in Natick, Massachusetts, just one week before Christmas. There is already 12 inches of snow on the ground, and it’s still going. My son-in-law told me that we’re in the belt expecting at least another 4 inches throughout the day. He is working from home today, and due to Covid, my daughter has been working from home since March. Their daughter is only three months old. I help as needed to the extent that I can.  Help this morning included taking a large broom to the three cars in the driveway before they became completely buried. I didn’t have the proper type gloves so my hands got really cold. Too cold, but I thawed. I also put the baby down for a nap. This included singing several Christmas songs: Sleigh Bells, The Christmas Song, and Let It Snow. In a different way, singing warmed us right up.  The added complication to our snowy day is that the furnace is being temperamental. We consulted with The Sage—my daughter’s dad. He is a savant when it comes to fixing everything and was able to talk us through a reset so that the house could heat back up after dipping down to 55 degrees. We have had to do the reset twice more since then. Apparently, a sensor is in the process of failing. It’s not my first experience being in a house where the heat is not working very well, or not at all in a few cases. One particularly memorable time was when the electricity went out during a storm while living in northern Indiana. My sister was very young, maybe only three, which would mean I was nine. Temperatures were below zero and ice had brought down the electric lines that serviced our home. By the time the sun set the first night, the temperature in the house was 50. Mom and Dad turned the faucets on to a thin trickle to ward off breaking pipes. Our parents built a fire in the fireplace and we set up a sort of base camp in front of it for the night. Snuggled between Mom and Dad, my sister and I slept cozily on our makeshift bed of blankets and pillows. Dad kept the fire stoked throughout the night. There was no worry about food going bad. By morning, the house was nearly as cold as the refrigerator. We had cereal and milk for breakfast and then made bologna sandwiches for lunch. With still no relief from the cold in sight, Dad made a decision. He called his parents. “Pack a bag. We’re driving to Wisconsin to be with Grandma and Grandpa until electricity is restored,” he announced mid-afternoon. The car was nice and toasty, and by dinnertime, we were in Wisconsin where there was heat and warm beds awaiting us. The furnace here in Natick is fueled by gas, and we’re not expecting to lose power. Good thing, too, because I have since learned that sleeping in front of your fireplace, or even your gas-fueled woodstove, is incredibly dangerous. If you do so, you risk carbon monoxide poisoning. Cozying up together with plenty of blankets and wearing hats would be more sensible. And singing songs. Maybe change the words and sing Baby It’s Cold In-side. That might warm things right up. Copyright DJ Anderson, 2020