I received the first heating gas bill of the season in the mail yesterday. Even though I had tried to mentally prepare myself for the horror, apparently nothing truly can prepare you. $429. They hit me right after the price spike too — $2.95/gal. I guess I should be grateful that they filled it before the price went over $3/gal, but I don’t feel grateful and I really don’t feel warm.
Last year, I had my father install one of those timer thermostats so the temperature would only be 69°F from 6am to 8:15am and 5:15pm to 11pm on weekdays and 6am to 11pm on weekends and the rest of the time it drops down to 62°F. My mother was constantly complaining about being too cold, which was o.k. with me because I was comfortable and I am always too hot at their house. This year with the cost of gas so high, I have reset the thermostat to 67°F and I must say, I’m wicked cold. Though I hate wearing so many layers, I’m totally bundled up and the cats and Pug are always on top of me; I’ve got an electric lap blanket for sitting downstairs and flannel sheets and an electric blanket on the bed. The news people are recommending small space heaters.
If things go the way they did last year, I’ll have to pay about 3/4 of that bill every month through March or April if we have another long Winter.
I am now accepting gifts of warm socks and fingerless gloves (so I can still type on my laptop).
Oh, and the guy who plowed the snow out of my driveway last year, left the following message on my answer machine: “Hello, This is [name]. I plowed you last Winter. I will not be plowing you this Winter. I just wanted you to know so you could get someone else.”
I’m ignoring the whole sexual connotation of the message. I’m kind of annoyed that he dumped me on my answering machine. Mostly because I wanted the chance to tell him that I didn’t want him to plow my driveway this year. He did a terrible job last year; not only did he leave snow on the driveway that froze over which resulted in many falls by me, but he rammed his plow attachment into my garage door frame and left it slightly bent and needing new paint. I think he was terribly afraid of Pugly and Pugly didn’t like him either, so it was mutual.
The only problem is that I wanted to find someone else before giving him the heave-ho. Now if it snows, I have a snow-filled driveway. I was ridiculously contemplating purchasing a snow-blower, thinking maybe I could do the deed myself, despite knowing how much I would hate it and how the fibromyalgia would sometimes really hate it. I went as far to price some in the ad section from Sunday’s paper.
They cost more than my heating gas bill. Yikes! Of course, a snow-blower would pay for itself after about 17 snow storms.
It’s not even Christmas yet and I’m already feeling the checking account drain.
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
Hey! My hubby used to live in NH and we still have a snow blower in the storage shed. Assuming it still works, if you pay the shipping you can have it. Let me know.
What size socks do you wear?
Okay - I so tried to avoid the sexual connotation, but it was just so funny when I read it that way! Sorry.
Your heating bill is similar to my air conditioning bill from this past summer! But, I like to keep the heat on 65 degrees at all times, so hopefully the bill will not be too expensive. I’m trying not to think about it…
Yeah, and he’s kind of a creepy looking guy, the kind you look at and think “peeping Tom” or “pedophile”. He just reminded me of this guy who used to stalk one of my friends. And like I said, Pugly really didn’t like him.