The Big Chill

I thought Shawn had adjusted the thermostat down; it was reading 62. So I adjusted it to 66. Two hours later it was adjusted back to 62! Cujo was burying herself under the blankets in her sleeping basket. I don't know what's going on; we either have a ghost messing with the temperature or the thermostat/furnace is going bonkers. I don't like either prospect. So we have someone coming out tomorrow to figure if we need an adjustment or an exorcism.

And we're suppose to be getting our next round of bad weather tomorrow - just in time for my infusion. I might have to cancel if the freezing rain starts by 10:00. I'm not driving to Overland Park on ice. Have I mentioned I hate winter?

I got a letter from Susanna but I'm not sure what the purpose was. She just reiterates how much she blames me for calling SRS in September and she can't see past that. Then the last paragraph says she's sending the letter to see what the outcome will be. I don't know what she wants from me... and I guess she's getting nothing. She and her brilliant husband are too hard for me - I am sick of walking on eggshells around them for fear of saying something that they won't like and will retaliate by not letting me hang with their daughters. I miss the girls but to be honest, my life has been easier not having to deal with the drama that is my sister. I'll have to think on this for awhile.

I'm off to bed; let's hope the furnace holds on (it's suppose to get down to 15 or something so no furnace means misery and frozen pipes for sure!)