All this would have been a little easier to take if I'd had a decent night's sleep. But I screwed that up for myself by switching beds. It turns out sleeping in the loft isn't the answer to my problems after all. That's where all the heat in the house ends up, but if I turn the furnace down low enough so that it's comfortable upstairs, it's freezing downstairs, where the bathroom is.
It didn't help to wake up this morning and discover that the pilot light on my water heater had gone out. There was enough lukewarm water left for a tepid shave and an overly refreshing shower. I considered calling for help, but I'm tired of being dependent on others for every little thing.
Gas makes me nervous, though, and at several points in the process I was ready to bolt next door to the landlord's. I got my nose down on the floor and inhaled deeply, just to be sure there was no ambient gassy odor. I mangled my hands getting off the two spring-loaded metal doors protecting the pilot valve.
Since the valve opening is back in the dark recesses of the heater's nether regions, I couldn't light it until I'd gone to the store and bought fireplace matches. They come in boxes of ninety, you know, so I should be able to light the pilot all through the coming winter.
Unlike the pilot at the old Home Office, this one stayed lit on the first try. I mangled myself once again putting the two doors back on and heard the heater roar to life when I turned the switch from "pilot" to "on." I'd really prefer not to have to do that very often.