Just my luck. We are in the midst of a cold spell and my heat is out. Thanks to my hearty Vermont blood I’ve been able to withstand it for three days, but last night was bad. Like a child I stood in my bedroom ready to tantrum (arms flailing, pointing towards the walls of neighbors with working radiators) thinking, how can I get warm?
That’s when I remembered the hot water bottle. I picked it up at an antique fair outside Madison, WI on a trip to visit my brother. It could have cost $20, it could have cost $50. The moment I saw it I had to have it. It reminded me of the one my Grammy used to tuck under my covers when I’d visit her in Boston. It cost $5.
The thing is, my apartment is warm. I don’t need a hot water bottle. So I brought it home and tucked it into a closet. Each winter, during my annual New Year’s pitch-a-thon I’d look at it, think about it, ponder if I should move it to basement storage, or simply let it go. Then I’d think one night it will be cold. I’ll regret it.
Tonight I am back in love with The Best Hot Water Bottle Ever. Last night we slept, keeping each other warm. I enjoyed the act of filling it with water, was amazed at how much heat it retains and connected with the lifestyle of my Grammy, as I could see her standing at her own kitchen sink filling her hot water bottle with boiling water, then bringing it to me in bed.
Moral: Don’t fight your instincts. If you want it and you know you’ll use it, bring it home.