And that's the moment you hide behind the brick column and reach out, flip the switch with a little stick, and really hope for door number two.

As you might have guessed, I am not covered in burns, so all is well. However, this time yesterday all was NOT well. I stopped home before heading out and noticed that it seemed a bit chilly with my coat off. I checked the thermostat and I thought my vision was finally gone--it was 57 degrees, with the 'stat set at 68. The inevitable button-pushing occurred; why I think that hitting control buttons over and over will affect the final outcome is a serious design flaw that needs to be fixed. Regardless, I ran downstairs (after changing into layers suitable for the Ice Hotel) and tried to fathom the mysteries of my heater. Since I didn't find a big red button labelled "Fixes Everything", I did what any self-respecting single woman living alone does--I called my dad.

After following various conduits and wires around the heater and ductwork, we decided to flip a switch that *might* be connected to something useful, wait five minutes, and flip it back on. The problem with this strategy? It's a gas heater, with an electric ignition. So the five minutes could be spent just sitting there or filling the entire basement and house with gas that would ignite into a fireball from hell and make typing difficult for a long time.

Luckily for me, I have a heat dish with parabolic heat action that is the most fantastic thing to sit directly in front of while the rest of the place heated up.
Thanks, sis!

It's a new year. Resolution lists are so passe; I'm making a list of things I want to do before I'm 30.

Oddly enough, I turn thirty in October, giving me 10 months to wipe the list clean. We'll see how it goes.