This was written and posted retroactively for documentation's sake.
(If I was cooler, I'd write this Seuss-style, but I'm not--so on with the story!)
The weekend before Christmas our house heater broke.
This was kind of distressing, because, as a female, I get cold pretty easily. And what with it being December and all, it was pretty cold in the Seattle area at this time. Not cold enough for snow, but almost.
However, the lack of a functioning heater did not bother my boyfriend. In fact, he was actually pretty happy about it. He claims to have yeti blood (sorry Barb), so the cold really just doesn't bother him much.
In fact, one of my pet names for G is "the heat tyrant." (Note: he enjoys calling himself by this name as well). He is so named because of his penchant for turning off the heater at 65 and telling me to just "put on something warm," even if I am wearing grandpa socks and a polar fleece robe and three layers of clothes.
So we called our landlord to try and get it fixed, but sadly, he was out of town (what with it being Christmas time and all).
So we dealt with our cold house as best we could (and many hot chocolates were consumed).
All seemed lost, until happily, I came home from work on Christmas Eve to find this note
Our heat Grinch was totally foiled and all was again well.
G even said that he missed having the heater a little.