Igloo of Enchantments

Although it felt as if my backyard would play arctic landscape these past few days, this was actually
 taken in Kirkwood, where I went skiing a year ago and for the first time since the pandemic.

When I came home last night after a few days in Palo Alto to accompany my boyfriend during a procedure, I knew I had to brace myself and silently rehearsed my "body-heat saving algorithm": taking off the thin tights that I soon regretted wearing when I did my shopping in the rainy weather, and jumping fast in my pajamas, thick socks and robe. Then, starting a fire, heating up some water for tea, and watching This Is Us on Netflix while listening to the fire crackle next to me.

Switching to full-being perception mode, I tried to estimate the ambient temperature as soon as I walked in. It thought it was around 10.5 C (51 F). I was pretty darn close. It was 9.4 C (49 F). I was not looking forward to sitting on my toilet. 

I am counting the days until this insane cold rainy phase is over. Last week, after I received my last Pacific Gas and Electric Company bill, I decided to shut off the heat for the rest of the season. After two bills of over 380 US dollars, I didn't think it could get worse, especially since my temperature in my home was kept at around 15 C, or 59 F, and since I don't overconsume electricity: I don't have a dryer, I do laundry on average twice a month, and I don't even turn out exterior lights. Sure, I have an electric car, but no fast charger, and even for my boyfriend who has one, his electricity bill is about twice as less (different electric company).

But no. The last bill put me in a state of utter terror: 464 US dollars ! This is madness. I am still suffering from a chronic financial hemorrhage from my divorce and related issues. I simply cannot afford this. The previous owners having left plenty of wood, I prefer to use that instead, and heat one room. I miss the heating system in my native Quebec, were each room had its own "calorifère" or heating device, at least in the house where I grew up. In this one, I cannot select or segregate the heat. Plus, I hate the sound of the heat pump: I feel like sitting near the engine of an airplane about to land. It was unbearable, especially at night.

The fireplace didn't want to cooperate. I drank two huge mugs of herbal tea instead, paired with some emotional eating (pistachios, chips and a teeth-fracturing chocolate-covered toffee cookie). I had the good idea of using my Marmot sleeping bag. It had kept me warm during the snow or winter camping in my former, married life. With an extra blanket in it and three layers on top, I slept fine, about 9 hours straight ! And here was the reading upon waking up this morning (in Farenheit):

Yes, that is right: 8.3 C.

So I am definitely going to continue to boycott many of the services from the electric company. I am a single mother and the only adult at my address absorbing these outrageous rates. I would love to have a 2-3 mo of less scandalous bills, until I have to put air conditioning on, May or June. I am not feeling sorry for them (they apparently made 2.2 billion of dollars in profit this past year. Comme dirait mon père, "c'est des voleurs !!!" ("what thieves !!!")).

And in case you are worried, I didn't wake up looking like this:

(and this afternoon, as I am writing this, a nice, caressing fire is au rendez-vous and I am enjoying coffee with coconut milk and daydreaming about summer days).