Baby It's Cold Inside

This weekend we have joined that elite group that we often hear about here in Naperville, those whose furnaces die in the dead of winter. So with gloved hands I type this wintry homage to Dean Martin.....

I really can’t stay
but baby it’s cold inside
Its 40 degrees
but its warmer outside
This weekend has been a total mess
Look at my hands, they’re blue with ice
My mother will start to worry
She’s never liked me, has she?
My father will be turning in his grave
Listen to the fireplace roar
I’m amazed you can hear it over my teeth chattering.
Your hot flashes are fine in the cold
But I’d rather keep them til I am old
Maybe just a half a drink more?
Of anti freeze? Ok then pour.
The neighbors might faint
(oh they know you by now)
These space heaters are great
the heat doesn’t even reach the door.
I wish I knew how,
My eyelashes are frozen now.
To break this spell
Book us into a damn hotel.
I ought to say “no, no, no sir”
Mind if I move in with a neighbor?
But the furnace will be fixed by Wednesday,
Til then its cold inside!