Our furnace is working at the moment, but we’re keeping our fingers crossed. It had shut down again, so the men have been stuck in the basement tinkering with it for yet another day. Our friend, an expert in this subject, says it’s acting wonky, and he still isn’t confident that it will hold. We might end up having to replace the whole dern furnace. But, since it’s Saturday night, and suppliers for this kind of thing aren’t open, the only thing we can do is wait. So we are enjoying the balmy 68 degrees in our house right now, with our fingers crossed. Luke is sleeping in his boxers, I’m sitting in my recliner in shorts and a t-shirt, and the dog is no longer huddled desperately under Mike’s feet (instead she’s sprawled out near them).
At 10 pm I was remarking to Mike that I couldn’t believe it was only Saturday. It just feels like the longest weekend ever, and we still have a day to go. I’m just praying it’s a less stressful day. One can hope.