I so felt like Darren McGavin's character from "A Christmas Story" the morning as I descended into the basement to do battle with the furnace. There I was, standing in the basement in my pajamas cussing a faulty flame sensor that was turning the burners off before they even had a chance to heat anything. Fortunately, our furnace isn't a 1940's vintage oil-burner. So at least there were no big black clouds of soot.
Damn thing.
Saturday, March 19
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