My Dad's house
Last night, I remembered one of the biggest reasons I moved out of my dad's house (aside from the clutter and seven-subject conversations): it was 62F when I got here after work. There is no heat because there is no oil. Because he wants to remove the oil tank and replace it with...something, I'm not quite sure what. So, he's purposely run out of oil. And not got around to removing the oil tank. And it's October.
And this morning, as I sit here and type this, it's a balmy 57F. Inside the house.
I hate being cold.
So I'm a whiner.
I'm also going to tell him to buy more blankets. Because all three of them were on my bed last night. Grrr.
And this morning, as I sit here and type this, it's a balmy 57F. Inside the house.
I hate being cold.
So I'm a whiner.
I'm also going to tell him to buy more blankets. Because all three of them were on my bed last night. Grrr.