What a difference a furnace makes

I've been so low the last few weeks... well, honestly, ever since the flood, though I've certainly had good days and bad days during that time. But the moment our new furnace switched on, late Monday, my mood lifted.

There's something about living in a cold, dank house that is just so depressing -- and there's something so cheering about warmth.

In the paper today there's an interview with one of the 11 people running for City Council (they're doing 2 interviews a day). One of the candidates profiled today doesn't have a furnace either, just space heaters. But it's ON PURPOSE. She's so green, she doesn't use any gas at all, except for her water heater, and she's getting rid of that too.

I'm not going to vote for her. (The other candidate profiled today sounded better -- he wanted more money for social services. There ARE poor people in this town, though they tend to be forgotten.) I like green, but I don't like the perpetual "greener than thou" contest that goes on among rich people in Boulder. I'm very happy with our 95.5% efficient furnace, and there's no way I would want to survive on space heaters only. We're getting a 94% efficient furnace for Clifford's house, and that'll be installed in a couple of weeks. Someday this misery will all be behind us.

I celebrated the new furnace by buying two new Halloween Barbie dolls at Target, and today I set out the whole collection.

I'm pleased that these little dolls survived the flood, but I would not have been heartbroken if they had not. They're fun, I enjoy them. The twins, especially Baby B, adore them. But they're replaceable.

Ever since the flood, I've been using the flood as a way to decide which of my possessions are worth keeping. I ask myself: would I have been devastated if this had been lost in the flood? Would I have been merely sad? Or is it just barely possible that I would have been relieved?

It's been very hard to move around in our bedroom for the past few months, due to boxes that I just couldn't deal with. Last week I finally opened one -- full of doll furniture. In the past I would have said "Keep! Keep! Must Keep All Doll Furniture!" But this time I took a closer look. The furniture was nothing special, and it was all heavily played with. A child might get something out of it, but not an adult. (I still fantasize about someday having a dollhouse of my own to furnish. But not with these pieces.) My boys aren't very interested in dollhouse stuff.

"Free pile," I told Rocket Boy. He was stunned, and tried to argue me out of it. But I held firm. Finally he took the box away -- probably to our storage unit. Sometimes even if I want to get rid of something, he won't let me.

Yesterday, with the furnace purring away, I decided it was time to deal with the rest of the boxes in our bedroom. Some things I managed to stash in the closet, but there was a big box that needed attention. I opened it. Sewing stuff.

I used to really like to sew, but I don't do much of it anymore. The occasional Halloween costume, maybe a craft project. In the mystical distant future when I don't have to worry about work or childcare, maybe I'll take it up again. But for now, not. Still, it's very hard for a seamstress to get rid of her sewing stuff. I decided to pack a box of everything I wanted to keep but not use now, keep a few basics in ONE sewing drawer, and throw the rest away.

Into the box went pointless things like a dozen packages of bias tape and patterns for dreadfully out of date dresses.

Into the trash went strange bits and pieces (mostly belonging to Rocket Boy's mom -- I have all HER sewing stuff too). My never-met mother-in-law had about 50 old sewing machine needles mixed in among her things. Why? Out they went (though perhaps I should fish them out (ouch! ouch!) and recycle them).

I discovered that I can't throw away a button. I saved every single button I found, except for one large, dreadfully ugly one that I managed to grit my teeth and toss. But it was hard. And all the rest I kept. (Another flood might be in order here.)

And now I have ONE sewing drawer (you'll notice I can't throw away a spool of thread, either),

ONE box of sewing stuff in the storage unit (that I'd be just as happy if we lost), and we can walk in our bedroom again.

What a difference a furnace makes.