foomart foomart

 Tuesday, December 26

The local distributor doesn't have replacement igniters, since we had to be all eco-groovy and get this fancypants high-efficiency boiler. And the manufacturer, who should have them, was closed today in Jesus' name.

This whole adventure has all been very outdoorsy and thermally and flannelly and hooded-sweatshirty, but it's getting a bit old. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for camping, but I'm strictly three-season, and this here be the fourth.

It's not even the lack of heat so much as the lack of hot water. Happily, the dishwasher still works just fine, so the kitchen maintains a basic level of sanitation, but that doesn't help when you have chicken grease that needs washing, oh ick, in horrid icy cold water, particularly when it's nose-noticing chilly in the room and your fingers are stiffening up already. One ponders warm lemony finger bowls and fur muffs. One comprehends the appeal.

We are lucky enough to have a chi-chi bed and breakfast just one state away for our showering convenience, so we won't have to get TOO crusty, but yuck. I hate showering in strange bathrooms. You never know how to set the knobs or how long the water takes to get hot and whether it will stay hot or do you have to rush before it runs out and leaves you with unfamiliar soap suds in all the wrong crevices, cringing in the far end of the shower with one hand over the nozzle, praying the hot water will come back but not knowing for sure whether it will, and what the fuck was that gel shit, what is that, jasmine? And the worst part is when you get out and dry yourself off with the wrongly-textured towel and then you have to get dressed there in the steamy bathroom, hair dripping, pile of clothes on the edge of the sink, hopping on one foot on a damp bath mat and struggling to drag your jeans on over your still-too-humid legs because somebody else is waiting for the bathroom and you can't just march naked into your bedroom to dry off while surveying your closet, like a human being.

It's not right, not after how much money we spent. They better fix that fucking thing tomorrow.

I gotta go, my mouse hand is freezing. To fluffy down and flannel sheets.

11:34 PM

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