WINTER IN MINNESOTA

“Winter?” you say. Yes, Winter. In Minnesota season changes are not measured by the days. I can always tell when it is fall; the sun hits a special place in the sky and the air has a crispness to it. Now, that may fall on August 18th or later, but it always comes before September 21st.

With the temperatures in the 30’s and the furnace on, I call it Winter. Now the natives here might call me a wimp and perhaps they are right. But, I wasn’t born here…I didn’t move here until I was around 25. I was raised in places like New Mexico, Florida and Los Angeles. My winter sport and outdoor activity consists of running to and from the car. I, and others, say that it’s the winters that keep the riff raff out…and then I am often reminded that I am the riff raff.

When winter hits and the furnace turns on you can pretty much count on close to $250 a month flying up the flue until well into April. That is, unless you are as crafty as I am.

Hibernating in my bedroom saves a lot on heating costs. “How?” you might ask. Well, let me tell you. Close the door, turn the waterbed heater up to 70 degrees and turn on three lamps and the room is toasty as can be within 45 minutes. However, if you are like me, you have that thing for fresh air. Well, you can leave your window open a crack and add 15 minutes to that warm up time and all is well. For me, that is.

My poor housemate, who lives in the rest of the house, is living under my totalitarian rule of energy efficiency. That means the thermostat is at 53 degrees at night and when we aren’t home and 65 degrees when we are at home. Sure, sometimes you can see your breath, but at our age how else are we going to be sure we’re alive?

I may be an accountant, but the kilowatts those energy efficiency bulbs are burning up is miniscule compared to the fuel oil sucking, 1955, oil burning furnace I have down there in the basement. You know you’re in trouble when the furnace repair guys say, “Gosh, we haven’t seen one of these in, what is it Hank, 35 years?” Then they try and talk me into a new one with the efficiency rating of gobbledy gook and the payback will only take 15 years. Fifteen years? My youthful ways do not point towards me living until 72, and if I do…well, damnit, that’ll show me.

There are times when I feel only slightly guilty over this energy mandate of mine. Like when I walk downstairs and see my housemate huddled under one comforter, two afghans, and her cat being used for its precious body heat. Hey, her teeth aren’t chattering.

You may think that I’m getting away with paying no consequences for this cost effective practice. You are wrong. I am a morning showerer. Jumping into that hot water and warming up from the run to the bathroom is heavenly. Getting out of the shower is another story all together. It’s ugly. Some morning I have been known to rush that towel over the goosebumped body and run right back upstairs and in between those still-warm sheets for the final dry-down. And as long as I don’t think about having to get back out of the bed I am the happiest I could be.

It’s a small price to pay for this conservation in the area of fossil fuels…but, it also represents that fact that I may be one of fossil fools.