The Heat

It’s been cold in our house for weeks now, but I just keep turning up the thermostat, adding a sweater or fleece, making a cup of tea. Guests hold their coats over their laps, and I turn the thermostat up a bit higher. When Teen Daughter wears a down jacket while doing homework something clicks and I figure it might be time to investigate. The air blowing through the vents does not appear to be warm, but maybe it is? I can’t really tell. I turn the thermostat up to 85 and an hour later it still reads 62. More evidence of something amiss.
When the heating guy arrives seven hours after my call, he walks in and says, “I remember your house from the work we did on the air conditioning this summer. We had to turn your heat off because you need a flue liner.”
“Well, we’ve had heat up until today,” I answer.
He replies gently, “See, your heat’s been shut off. You’ve had no heat. There’s been no heat.”
“You shut my heat off last summer?”
“Had to. Without a flue liner we couldn’t hook up your furnace to the flue. Without that connection, the carbon monoxide would have killed all of you pretty quick.”
While I thank him for protecting us, I wonder why he didn’t mention this 4 months ago.
We have heat today and now I remember what heat really feels like. I vow to never forget again.