Michelle's House of Horrors

Every year, I have this little game I play with the heat at home. It dates from when I lived in France in the 80’s. In France at the time, most landlords of college housing would not turn the heat on until November 1.

The climate in Central France is no different from the Willamette Valley. It gets cold in October, especially at night. It doesn’t matter. You just wear a lot of layers indoors until November 1. Unlike in the US, there didn’t seem to be any expectation of habitability there. In fact, my landlord once turned off the heat in my building for 3 weeks at Christmas time because he assumed all of the students would be away. He was incorrect, and it was one of the coldest Winters on record in that part of France. We tried to reach him, but he was away on vacation.

There was frost on the inside of my apartment.

Luckily, I don’t have to worry about that at home. If it gets too cold, and it always does, I wimp out and turn the heat on prior to November.

Why is it, do you think, that 66 degrees feels so much colder inside the house at 5pm than it does outside at 5 am?

So I am feeling thankful for cashmere, merino and down as I try to tough it out until November 1st like I used to when I was in my 20’s. I am feeling even more thankful that I have a choice in the matter!

As I was driving home from a friend’s house the other night, I sang along to James Taylor’s song “You’ve Got A Friend” and hit the repeat button, the way you do when you like a song and want to sing some more. Maybe a few times. Four times. Four. Okay? I get a little obsessive sometimes.

The song made me smile, because for a long time I just couldn’t deal with that song.

I think anyone who loves music tends to connect people to songs. Even more than that, I have a couple of songs that are like barometers. They indicate the various pressures in my relationship to the person the song belongs to.

For a long, long time I couldn’t listen to that song at all. I didn’t really know why, at the time. It was a song I used to listen to with someone who had been very important to me. Someone I eventually disappeared with fairly extreme prejudice. I sort of mentally erased him. But that song would come on sometimes, and it would make me uncomfortable so I’d have to skip past it.

It’s not that I didn’t like it any more. It didn’t make me sad. I just couldn’t stand hearing it.

When I made peace with the person it was linked to in my heart, I got the song back too. Bonus. The minute things go a little agley, though, the song goes with it. Up and down like one of those fluid barometers with the floats in them.

Right now? It’s up. So I am singing along while I can.

It makes me hopeful I’ll get (The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes back again soon, but I am guessing it may have become a barometer as well.

Which sucks.

I really did use to be disgusted. Now I really do try to be amused. I used it as an online dating tag line in the 90’s. I refer to certain people with angelic nicknames. I need it back. It is MY FUCKING SONG.

The thing is, once someone takes a song away, it’s not like they can just turn it back over. I’m sure they would. It has to come back on its own. Once whatever took it away gets resolved.

I sure hope it doesn’t take 30 years this time…