I am so ashamed.
Dad must be rolling over in his grave.
Yes, I’ve turned on the furnace.
For decades, I have had a deadline of Nov. 1 as the earliest I will turn on my furnace. But retirement must have weakened me. I am at home all day now and when the thermostat started drifting down into the 50s, I just couldn’t put on enough clothes to stay warm. And on Saturday, I spent most of the day on the sofa wrapped in a quilt watching TV.
The final death knell to fall came at 7:15 a.m. today when I scooted across the frigid floor to check the thermostat — 53 degrees. And the predicted high today is 51,
Since I always buckle at 50 degrees anyway and this week’s forecast has highs in the 40s, I reached my cold creaky fingers to the thermostat and punched “heat.”
I had been watching Trisha Yearwood whip up her daddy’s homemade biscuits on the FoodNetwork so to celebrate the demise of my pioneer spirit, I popped a pan of my own biscuits into the oven. It’s kind of a secret recipe. But twist my arm and I’ll give it up — Pillsbury cinnamon rolls.
The temperature in the house has already climbed to 59 degrees as I type this and the oven timer just dinged. So to all of you who are still holding out, I salute you with a cinnamon roll or three and a tall glass of milk.