I was sitting here minding my own business when out of the blue the hubby said, “I’m going to get you a heater for the sewing room.”

“What? Why? I don’t want one. “ 

“Sure you do. You complain all winter that you’re freezing up there so I’m going to do this nice thing for you.”

“I do not recall complaining or even being cold. Have you been sniffing paint fumes?”

“No, I just know you need this.” 

“But I don’t want it.” I considered the matter closed and went back to my puzzle.

A week later we were out getting groceries and he started in again about buying me that heater.

“I don’t need a heater.”

“Yes you do.”

“Look buster, I don’t want one because I have no room for one.” 

Seriously, I have many, many projects either started or waiting to be started which are overflowing the shelves. The ones I’m most interested in starting have become little piles on the floor. What I need is more shelving, not a heater.

“Besides, with all the lint and fibers and piles of projects up there, a heater is a guaranteed fire starter. I don’t want one.”

“You’ll thank me later,” he said. I hoped he’d forget about it.

A week later he proudly came home with a state of the art portable, 360-degree surround, ceramic heater with thermostat. It was kind of pretty so I didn’t call him any names. I just carried it up to the sewing room, still in its box and set it on the floor. 

I didn’t know if he was losing it or if I was. Maybe he had a gift certificate he needed to use up. Maybe he wanted to do business with some start-up company. All I knew for sure was that it was already January and I had not yet found myself cold up there. 

Three weeks later he came up while I was sewing. “How do you like the heater?” 

“I haven’t used it yet. I’ve not been cold. I know you find that hard to believe given how I thaw my hands out over the food when it’s cooking every night but it’s true.” 

“Geez Deb! I might as well take it back to the store. Where is it?” 

“It’s under that third pile of fabric by the closet.” (Hey, no flat surface is safe up here.) Now I know I said I didn’t want it, but it was pretty and I was kind of sad to see it leave. Then again it kind of didn’t. He put it on the kitchen counter so he would remember to return it. After three days of working around it I put it in my office because it clashed with my canisters. 

On the 18th of February I sat at the sewing machine and could actually feel cold air blowing on my hands. Winter had finally fallen upon Oswego. And that’s when it occurred to me that the reason it hasn’t been cold up there is because it hasn’t been cold anywhere — which meant it hadn’t been cold enough to start the woodstove. The woodstove is the real culprit because it heats the basement and the first floor but the second floor can suck grapes as far as its concerned. (And you can thank the hubby for the mild winter because he bought me snow tires this year, pretty much guaranteeing little to no need for them.)

The hubby poked his head in the sewing room as I was checking the locks on the windows. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“The wind seems to be blowing out of the south and coming right through the windows,” I said in my best meteorologist voice.

“Sounds like you could use a heater,” he said as he bounded down to the office where it still sat. Sometimes his “I’ll get around to dealing with this by way of Texas” comes in handy. 

But as God is my witness, I only ran it for maybe an hour. You see, as I walked past it I saw a warning label that said the heater needed to be three feet away from anything combustible. Well, there is nowhere up there that has such a radius so I turned it off. 

And there it sits, all pretty like. 


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