Thursday, January 5, 2012

Brr to the Brr

My heat doesn't work in my house.

To say I am freezing is a slight exaggeration but really, NOT MUCH! Its 50 degrees IN MY HOUSE. It's in the low 30's outside. I feel like I'm camping. I have sweat pants, UGGS, under armour, sweatshirt and a hat on sitting on my couch. I even have these sweet fingerless gloves on because I still need to work.
Aren't they cute? I think my hands look the cutest out of all my bundle wear I currently have on. My sister got these for me for Christmas and I think I'll sleep in them tonight if the heat continues to be broken. The dial doesn't seem to be responding to my threats and constant berating. Maybe I should try to reason with the heater? I'm much more partial to just kicking the crap out of it.


Dear Heater,
I would like you to work. Your warmth inside my house makes it much more tolerable to sit here and do my job comfortably. With you not working I am looking like Ralphie from Christmas Story puffed out like a marshmellow. You are however, encouraging cardio as I have gotten up multiple times to run in place and do jumping jacks to regain the blood flow to my limbs.
I'm just asking for you to do your job of heating. You live in my house, heat it up. Even if you just make it to the 60's inside, I will be greatful. 51 degrees indoors is just outrageous, you're creeping down to the 40's. If I wanted to live outside, I'd curl up with the dudes on the corner and talk about not having to pay rent. BUT I PAY RENT... WORK!
I can't even write a rational letter to you because my fingers are frozen.
running in place, Carrie

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