I'm shivering. My nose is red and my fingers stiff, which is only slightly better than Chicky's fingers. Hers are purple. We're dressed in two or three layers of clothing, wearing winter hats and we're freezing, regardless of the roaring fire next to us.
Why would we be outside if we're so uncomfortable? We're not. We're sitting on my couch.
It's 5 degrees outside, the coldest day of the year by far.
It's 43 degrees in my house and it's getting colder.
My husband is in New York City, warm and toasty. Probably sipping coffee with co-workers. And he forgot to have our oil tank refilled. Before the Coldest. Day. Of the. Year.
I could kill a person for less than this.
I've bribed Chicky with Dragon's Tales and Sesame Street on Tivo to keep her on the couch and under the heavy blankets. My kid, who would sooner stand in front of the tv rocking back and forth - you know, just to keep moving even during a sedentary activity - or run around the house bouncing off of walls is compliant. I think mainly because her blood is so cold that it's thick and slowing her down. Her hands are two ice cubes but I can't get her to wear mittens because YOU CAN'T EAT KIX CEREAL IF YOU'RE WEARING MITTENS. Duh.
My cat has just joined us on the couch. I've never been so happy to have an obese animal try to sit on my neck. At least she's got body heat.
Am I being melodramatic? Fuck no! It's cold and I have no heat. Now would probably be a good time to bring up all those families that routinely have to choose between food and heat each and every winter (and honestly I don't know how they do it, I don't mean to make light of their horrible situation) but I'd rather bitch about my fucktard of a husband. Yeah, you heard me right. A fucktard. Under normal circumstances I can look past his minor oversights in judgment because he's usually on top of things. But this is the second time he's done this to me.
That's right. The second time he has left me with no heat on a cold winter's day.
Guess who will be taking over the oil delivery scheduling responsibility?
So here we sit, our hands starting to swell. Chicky starting to whine and her nose beginning to run. We wait for the oil man to bring us our emergency supply of fossil fuel. And when he gets here I will ask him that if he were in my situation would he think it were appropriate for his wife to divorce his ass for leaving her and their young child alone in the cold.
I'm thinking he might agree with me. Especially when he sees the steam coming from my ears. Funny how that steam isn't keeping me the least bit warm.
And when Mr. C gets home late this evening he better walk through the door on his knees, clutching a big, fat diamond for me and a pony for his daughter. Or the equivalent. Which would be complete servitude for the rest of our lives.
I'm open to any other suitable punishments.
Daddy's in trouble. Daddy's in trouble. Daddy's in trouble.
The oil man came! Finally. Five hours after I called for a delivery (and an hour and a half after I called the second time to inquire if the oil man was dead) he showed up. I was so excited to see him I think I might have peed on the floor. But that might have been because I held it for so long... Have you ever sat on a frozen toilet seat? Yowzah.
After explaining to him why we were without heat the oil man said, "It sounds like your husband will be sleeping with those dogs tonight." Which I considered, until I came to the conclusion that the dogs had been suffering along with us all day. Instead I think Mr. C will be sleeping on the dog bed in the kitchen and the dogs will sleep in the bedroom with me. That seems fair.
Our fire went out around 11:30am, so all we had for heat was a small space heater for a couple of hours (thanks Carrie for reminding me I had one!) . Also around 11:30 Chicky started asking for a nap. Do you know what it's like to tell a toddler that, no, she couldn't go to bed because it's too cold in her room? That was probably the worst part. Two hours of keeping Chicky's mind off of sleeping - because she absolutely would NOT just lie on the couch and close her eyes. Instead she just stood and whined. Loudly. And hit me repeatedly. So we ran around a lot and there was much bouncing up and down involved. After the heat was turned on we still had to wait for the house to warm up enough so that I wouldn't worry that Chicky would die of hypothermia in her sleep. I didn't want a Chicksicle on my hands.
Thanks for your well wishes so far. Keep those suggestions for painful retribution coming!