A Winter Saga

On October 20, 2016, I officially became a recluse. The cause? Having to give up driving because of my narrowed field-of-vision due to Glaucoma. The serenity of my reclusion changed recently with a fifteen-day saga that ended on February 20.  During those fifteen days, I met a plethora of helpful and concerned strangers, all of whom made my problems theirs. Here’s the story:

Upon rising at 8:30 A.M. on Friday, February 5, I turned the thermostat up from 58° to 70°. Ten hours later, the temperature had risen only to 68°. I noted this, but thought little of it. \It happened again on Saturday. Then Sunday. Clearly something was wrong. 

On Monday I called a recommended furnace repair service. Marvin came the same day, checked the furnace (“Fine!”), then examined the filter onto which was attached a quantity of insulation.

“Must be a hole in one of the attic flex ducts,” he said. Deftly, he climbed the ladder and disappeared into the attic. (I have no basement.) 

When Marvin came back down, he said, “Ms. Ready, you must have some animals in the attic because I found eleven places where the flex ducts were ripped open.” 

Many nights in the past four years, I’d heard the sounds of racing, especially above my bedroom. I’d pictured a nightly Indianapolis 500. However, friends and family members thought the sound was just squirrels scampering on the roof. Stilling my inner voice that thought differently, I’d ignored the sounds. Result? All along the pounded-down insulation were eleven way-stations providing heat to the merry marauders. 

Before the duct work could be repaired, the animal(s) had to be caught. Another call and explanation. On Wednesday, February 10, Ben came, walked around my one-story home, found an entrance/exit hole right above my bedroom, and set a trap beneath the soffit. 

Ben returned the next day and found a trapped raccoon. He reset the trap and returned for the next four days. Concluding on the 16^th that the raccoons had vamoosed, he nailed some sort of metal sheet to cover the hole. Marvin then returned on the 17^th to repair the ducts. Yesterday, insulation was blown into the attic that would, Greg assured me, save me considerably on my heating bills. 

During those fifteen days, the house grew increasingly chilly. Starting on the 8^th and ending on the 17^th (the days of the Arctic Vortex rampage from Texas to the East Coast), the furnace valiantly tried to heat the rooms, the attic, and the air outside that raccoon entry. The task was impossible. For eight days, the room temperature hovered between 58° and 61°. For two days it got up to 63°. I bundled up and looked like the Michelin Man. 

One last thing: On Monday morning, the 15^th, at 1:14 A.M. a neighbor’s security camera recorded that someone drove her/his car down the street, onto my driveway, and into my garage door. I heard a loud bang. Thinking it was a raccoon overhead, I simply turned over and went back to sleep. The next morning, when I opened the kitchen door to the garage, I discovered light pouring in from the bottom two panels of the four-panel overhead garage door. 

More calling and explaining to seven different people. Ultimately, a police officer came; someone from an overhead garage door company; and someone from the insurance company.

Brian, the garage door representative, proved to be a “prince of a man.” He used his clenched right fist, his right hip, his booted feet, a hammer, and an electric screw driver to gerrymander the damaged panels backs into a position that he could lock. “You’re safe,” he said, “until the door comes.” 

I was safe. Cold but safe. And I tell you that feeling safe was more important to me than feeling warm. 

Thus, did the month of February shatter my seclusion/reclusion. How fortunate I was to meet and talk with such helpful, courteous, friendly, concerned service representations who saw me as a fellow human being and not as a statistic or a bloodless number. 

My Meniere’s mantra has always been the following prayer of Julian of Norwich, who lived during the Black Death pandemic of the mid-fourteenth century: “And all shall be well. And all shall be well. And all manner of things shall be exceedingly well.”

So it has been and is and will be for me. Gratitude wells up from the deep center of my being where Oneness dwells.

Peace. 

PS: For those of you who left comments for my previous posting, I finally was able to respond. So if you're interested, please scroll down and read the thoughts that came to me after reading your welcomed comments.

Photographs from Wikipedia.