I whistled as I cracked open the front door of my house, excitement at escaping the brisk winter air getting the better of me.
‘Honey, I’m ho—’
The frigid air inside the house shocked the breath from my lungs as I rapidly pulled the zipper back up on the jacket I’d been about to remove.
‘Honey?!’ I called out into the house.
My wife appeared in the hallway, bundled into layers of all her winter clothes and smiling at me.
‘How was your day?’ she asked, walking towards me.
‘How was my— what happened in here?’
She looked confused for a second, then the penny dropped.
‘Oh, you didn’t know about the heater.’
‘The heater? What’s wrong with the heater?’
‘Nothing, nothing,’ she soothed me. ‘But it is broken and not turning on.’
‘That’s something,’ I shook, the images of me taking my feet off near the heater duct after a long day, slowly freezing solid in my mind.
‘We have someone coming to look at it, don’t worry.’
‘How long will they be?’
‘Not long.’
‘How long?’
‘A week or two.’
‘A week?!’
‘Or two.’
‘Why?!’
‘Well,’ my wife crossed her arms, ‘this is their busiest time of the year, when everybody needs their professional ducted heater servicing. Around Canberra it’s even worse, apparently – we should consider ourselves lucky.’
‘I’m not feeling very lucky,’ I glowered, kicking my snow-covered boots off.
‘Oh relax, it’s just a bit of cold,’ my wife laughed. ‘You’ll be okay.’
‘I was looking forward to being warm!’
She giggled again and walked into the kitchen. I followed after her, still dutifully zipped into my jacket.
‘How many places did you call?’
‘Places?’ she asked.
‘You know, companies that do heating services, near Canberra.’
‘All of them, dear,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘I know how dramatic you get when it’s cold.’
‘It’s not dramatic,’ I protested, ‘it’s proportional.’
‘Right,’ she rolled her eyes again.
‘I have very low body fat,’ I defended myself weakly.
‘Yes, dear,’ she said. ‘Pie for dessert?’
‘Yes, dear,’ I sighed.