In which I whine about the cold and having to walk to a toilet.
I went to bed early. At about midnight, I awoke and needed to pee. It was cold. I climbed down from the upper bunk, found a Styrofoam cup and relieved myself. I left the cup in the sink, and climbed back up to bed.
At about 2:00 I awoke and needed to do something that I didn’t want to try to get into that cup. I dashed, in my boxers, to the bathroom inside the house (about 15 feet door-to-door).
At about 6:30 I awoke and again needed relief. It was cold. The cup was nearly full. It was cold. If only I were wearing Depends. Did I mention the cold? I checked the thermometer on the dash. It said 42.3. “Darn! That’s cold!” I said to myself.
“Dude, that’s the OUTSIDE temperature. You are a wimp,” I replied.
I looked and saw that the inside/outside switch was indeed on the outside setting. I hung my head down and read the thermometer by the fridge. I’d had a similar conversation with myself last night in which I thought it was 34 degrees, but was reminded that was the temp inside of the refrigerator. It was still on the inside temp. It read 50.7. That’s not that cold. And, really 42.3 isn’t that cold either. It’s probably 42.3 on a good night in San Francisco any time of the year.
For a while I lay there contemplating the $750 externally vented propane forced air heater. I’d been thinking that I’d consider it later in the summer when I’d decided more certainly that I’m going to do this thing for a whole year. Now I’m thinking that I want it installed. Now.
Before I get out of bed.
I found a shirt and went inside to the potty. I turned on the propane heater and settled in to make coffee when I thought “You know, there’s a house right there. It’s warm. There’s even a working radio.”
I succumbed. I got inside and remembered that I, in a fit of environmentalism, had turned the thermostat way down when the cousins left. It was still cold. I turned up the thermostat, found some leftover Chinese food in the refrigerator, and heated it up. In the microwave.
I’m reminded that when I first told my therapist that I was going to live in a van down by the river her first response was “What about plumbing? Indoor plumbing is really good.”
Maybe she was right.