My smart thermostat keeps flashing an alert to tell me that it's time to change the furnace filter. This is a handy reminder, but if my thermostat was so smart, you'd think it would have caught on to one minor fact by now: I don't wanna.
You see, my friends, I have a century-old house with a basement that on a good day I refer to as a "glorified crawlspace."
A bad day is any day in which I have some basic chore that requires me to descend into the world of one dim, bare light bulb like I'm Harry and Ron braving the Forbidden Forest in Chamber of Secrets.
Lord knows I prefer eight-legged bugs over the house centipedes and silverfish they keep in check. (Shudder.)
However, I prefer to appreciate them in theory. Out of sight. Once I see one descending on its thread, all those legs flailing around it, all bets are off.
Still, it's winter and an efficiently-running furnace is kind of important, so I guess I'll just have to suit up and arm myself for the adventure into the cave.
Which in this case involves a hat or other keep the ceiling spiders out of my hair covering and a long-handled Swiffer duster to wave ahead of myself to clear the way.
Because that is how I adult.
