Nothing...

...is ever easy.  The latest calamity is my non-functioning furnace.  The same furnace for which I paid dearly this summer.  I'll try not to make this into a saga, so here's my attempt at the executive summary.  Cliff Notes?

Yesterday, I noticed that it was kinda cold downstairs.  Not intolerable for me, but the Daddler started bitching.  I fiddled with my fancy, new-fangled electronic thermostat.  I managed to make the heat come on.  Miraculously, the house warmed up.  The D was still complaining about how cold it was in the back of the house (his senior suite, specifically), and I explained that his faux-fireplace-space heater warmed up the living and dining rooms (where the thermostat was located), and consequently, the thermostat thought it was warm enough, so it stopped the furnace when it touched its target temp.  And that since we have to hermetically seal the rear of the house with a series of doors (to keep Lucy from running roughshod through it,) the heat wasn't distributed democratically.  That seemed to appease (confuse?) him.  It probably didn't hurt that I'd schlepped him to early voting and Picadilly that morning.  Talk about a dutiful daughter.  I'm sorry, but DillyPic (his pet name for it,) isn't my fav.  I love salt, but they go overboard, even for me.  I suppose all those old people with impaired taste buds appreciate surplus salinity.

Ok, back to the frigid furnace fiasco...  This morning, I came downstairs bright and early.  I noticed a chill in the air.  Yup.  The thermostat read 60 degrees.  I checked the pilot light.  Still lit.  I worked on the thermostat.  Went around the house and felt the air near the vents.  Listened for the fan to kick on.  Nothing.  Nada.  Nyet. Negatory.

I cranked up The D's little fireplace.  Prepared my speech.  When I heard him shuffling around, slamming doors, I made my pre-emptive strike.  I explained that I'd checked the pilot light.  It was fine.  I had a call in to the HVAC man.  That seemed to appease him.  Not too much grumbling.  Glory be to God.

When I called Mr. HVAC, his lackey answered and explained to me that it's impossible for the pilot light to go out.  I explained that it did, indeed, go out.  I was promised a service call, but I'm not holding my breath.  I am, however, about to check the prices for faux fireplaces on Amazon.  Path of least resistance.  Pathetic, I know...

Oh, well.  I'm tired of all this.  I give up.  I've given it my best shot.