So Homes, How was yr New Years ??

written by Homes (NOT written by Hilts)

names edited by Hilts

The champagne at midnight sealed my hangover. Never a smart thing to do, to drink bubbly after a night of Belgian triples followed by red wine. Stupid, stupid, stupid.I awoke Tuesday feeling like nasty, shitty, abominable hell and strangely cold. But it wasn't just me. Nico was cold too and she was not hung over. "It's fucking cold in here," she said elbowing me. "Did you turn off the furnace?"

She prodded me, despite my childish moaning and groaning, to figure it out. My head pounded, and I wanted swift death. I was truly in no place to deal with such home ownership issues. Rolling out of bed in my boxers the chill slithered into my bones and a sickly vertigo dropped me momentarily to my knees. Finally, I made it to the basement where I discovered--duh--the friggin furnace was kaput. It made all the sounds of working, but there was just a click, click, click. No ignition. I was fucked. On New Year's day my furnace died. You try finding some one to fix your furnace on New Year's day when it's 10 degrees outside. Inside it was 48 and falling. Nicole thinking--I'm sure--as punishment for imbibing so stupidly, I had to take care of all this right away. I got out the phone book and painstakingly made the calls, misdialing a few time because I can hardly focus on the little numbers. I got connected to an emergency heating service and left my call-back number. We live in a first world, thank god, that offers this kind of service. Some one called me back an hour later and said, after asking a bunch of detailed questions about my furnace that I had no inclination to answer correctly, that "our fees are doubled after hours and on holidays. You won't change your mind?"

I put a space heater in our bedroom and curled up into a fetal position. I was awakened by a crashing sound and a shrill, bloody scream. My head nearly exploded. Panicked, I rolled out of bed. My head felt like two blunt knives were being plied in from behind my ears. And then the door bell rang. I saw Nico in the bathroom gushing blood from her hand. She screamed, "oh my God, oh my God." And several "Fucks!" The door bell rang again. Nico pleaded with me to find a bandaid to help her stop the bleeding. I could nearly see her breath as she gasped in pain. The blood oozed from her finger. It was slashed bad. It's hard to explain, but basically my razor is in our toothbrush holder and some how she made a swift movement and it took a big bite out of her. Big. Lots of blood, spewing from her finger, dripping on the sink and on the floor as she tried to get it under control. But the problem is she does not do well at the sight of her own blood. I grabbed some tissues and placed them over her finger, and she screamed. I looked in the blood splattered toilet and felt an urge to vomit. The door bell rang again and I nearly fell down the stairs to answer. The furnace man stood there, obviously annoyed I took so long to open the door. It was cold out, and he just wore a heavy flannel. Nico screamed some more. I led the man to my basement.

He went to work, opening up the gasping, clicking machine, and I went back up to check on Nico. Each painful trek up and down the stairs intensified my pounding, miserable head and urge to vomit. Nico was no better in the bathroom. She could not stop the bleeding or even put pressure on her finger, it hurt too much, and she just sat there in melt-down mode. She said she was going to pass out and she yelled at me to help, to fucking do something. I thought about vomiting some more. I could barely focus. I could barely stand. This was not a good beginning to the new year. Finally I got her to lay in bed with a towel over her finger.

I went back into the basement to see what the problem was with my furnace. "It's your igniter," he said, and pulled out a calculator. "$440." I was in no position to protest. I just looked at him with stunned eyes, and he patiently began explaining the rational for raised fees on such a day. It made perfect nonsense. I handed him my credit card and sat on the floor. He was there for all of 20 minutes.

My furnace came back to life and I crawled up to the bedroom were I found Nico sitting up in bed with her toweled hand raised above her head. I wrapped gauze and surgical tape around it then buried myself under the down and concentrated on 2008 playing out better than it began.

And yours?