If you live in a cold climate you are most likely familiar with block heaters. And then again, you probably also have a stash of hand warmers somewhere. I know that they are becoming some of my most treasured possessions. Well… along with heated seats, but we don’t have those… yet. Lurking outside the unheated storage locker the morning after we moved up here, waiting for the moving truck to come, almost every thing we owned in it. [Thank you for not falling over the cliff on that treacherous sometimes snowy road on the way up here.] It was –8 C, a huge change from the green, lush, wet winters of the coast. Part of me was longing for that more temperate weather as I stood freezing outside, the cold wind whipping my hair, and the sounds of the big trucks roaring past on the hi-way near the edge of town. The other part of me was wondering what we had gotten our selves into. Who moves in the beginning of December to somewhere this cold? Thinking that the truck might come earlier then we had anticipated, we had jumped out of bed early that morning.
The day before was chaotic, exhausting, and long, had started early in the morning, and it had taken longer then we thought to get to our destination at the farm that night. We had to finish cleaning up the condo, and found that we just couldn’t fit in everything left behind by the movers for us to take in our truck. Frantically giving away “stuff”, asking if friends in the building could store precious items that the movers wouldn’t ship. Did I mention that we had accidentally packed away two boxes of ammunition in February, [almost a year ago] and then found out that they were on the list of non shippable items. Every single box had to be reopened as it was taken from the storage locker and searched. Finally we found each item of contraband, and had organized it to be taken up with us.
So there we were, standing outside of our storage locker, cold, tired, feet frozen, and wondering if the start of our new lives was worth it. I had forgotten to bring any mitts, or a hat. We had rarely needed them down on the coast, and the movers were late. They arrived, cheerful, with warm coffee, mitts and hats. Smart movers. Silly me, I had turned down the offer of hand warmers from my Mom, not something I will ever do again. It’s not cold out, I won’t need them I thought. The cold proved me wrong.
We discovered the joys of heated seats that day when my BIL pulled up in his new truck, and let us in to wait the arrival of the movers. Ahhhh there is nothing like block heaters, hand warmers, and heated seats. Trust me.