today, i froze. not necessarily because it's that cold but because i'm a tiny little woman and-- despite the presence of sweaters, hoodies, and blankets-- we do get cold. at long last, a complete and thorough exhaustion from shivering finally conquered my pride in $13 utility bills and i turned on the heat. because i like to fun up the banal, i put on some glitter and a little black dress and prepared for the solemn task at hand: The Ceremonial First Turning On.
much like hanging up on someone on a cordless phone, The Ceremonial First Turning On Of The Heater is way anti-climactic. the heater itself is part of a window unit so unlike a radiator, there's no sizzle or steam or crackle or bang. there's simply the beep of a button, a haggard rumble and a slow breeze of not nearly hot enough air.
even more anti-climactic in the Ceremonial First Turning On Of The Heater '06, was the fact that when i hit the button nothing happened. repeated hittings of the button yielded nothing either. so i leaned forward and peered intently into the darkness- trying to will the heater to life. apparently my persuasive powers work wonders with appliances, because the heater returned from the dead with a sudden, silent but mighty cough of dirt and lint and leaves and nasty. a cough directed right at me.
with that, i've concluded that la petit maison- weary of the incessent rearrangements and the suicidal plants and the murdered bug life and the vievery- must have it in for its oh!'lighn.