I was sitting here this morning, so cold that I got the electric heater out. I am running low on propane so I haven’t been using the furnace, and usually it gets warmer as the day goes on. A check of my electric meter shows that so far, with only 4 or 5 days to go, I have used $21-22 in electric this month. I figured I could splurge on the heater for a few minutes. Then I decided to turn it off and just add more clothing, so out came my capilene long johns. They are so thin and silky and comfortable, and don’t feel too warm when I went out to walk the dogs. The RV repairman is coming tomorrow and maybe I can fumble with getting the tanks out of the rig and into my truck while he is here, and of course he will help me. The man at the Sportsman’s Mini Mart has already said they will get the tanks out of the truck and the full tanks back in, so I will save my strength for hoisting them up into the compartment on the 5ver. The two tanks of propane have lasted me for nearly a month.
What I’m going to write next may seem morbid to some, but it’s actually not at all. About an hour ago I passed the exact age of my father when he had a heart attack and passed away. This has been on my mind for the past couple of years, and I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if it had happened to me by now. I’m grateful it didn’t. I’m probably more like my dad, healthwise, than anyone else in my family. We were both heavy smokers for a number of years, and while most people think lung cancer from smoking, it was not the problem with dad nor with me. Smoking also clogs up the arteries, which it did in the case of both of us.
So what does this mean in my case? I have hereby decided that I am going to be grateful every day of my life, give thanks for every day I have left, and treat each day as if it is my last.