It turns out that when the heat in the house goes out in the dead of winter I just think I have a cold. No joke – I’d put on my hockey sweatpants, a sweater, and a beanie and then thought to check the thermostat to see just how sick I was feeling.
Despite the thermostat being set to 72, the inside temperature was 64. We’ve flipped all the breakers, re-set all of the GFIs in the house and pressed all of the buttons on the thermostat to absolutely no avail. It’s a crisp 58 degrees in the living room but now it doesn’t feel so bad.
Whenever I get cold in Nevada I stop and think about how cold it actually has been – those winters spent in 4-foot snowdrifts in the Wisconsin River Valley or with the bitter wind coming off the Great Plains in Minnesota. When I was a kid in Wisconsin we had an older house with terrible insulation so most of the winter was spent with an electric blanket and bundled up. Showering and washing my hair was a nightmare but I got through it eventually. When I was in college I went without much heat (if any at all) over two winter breaks thanks to crappy building construction. This is practically summer weather compared to spending 10 hours a day outside in November and December deer hunting!
I won’t lie, the cold can be brutal out here in the desert. Thanks to growing up in the frozen north, though, the heat going out in January is more or less a walk in the park. Bring on the sweater and hot tea!