My infrared heater that cost over five hundred dollars not two years ago has become very temperamental lately. I think the foggy weather has seeped into its coils. It has been a friend to me warming my feet which constantly feel the cold of my laminate flooring. And when it dies on me I miss its comfort.
Yesterday I returned home after spending a week out of town. I could hardly wait to return to the warmth and familiarity of my own abode despite the fact that my determination was to complete my income tax return , a dubious pleasure for sure. The only comfort was that I could point the infrared rays of my heater towards the table where I was sitting and feel somewhat soothed.
Wouldn’t you know it, the moment I sat down and started the calculations, the bright orange heat coils turned dark only the cold silver shining through the screened aperture at the front. My western chinook became the blast of a polar easterly. The fan had the audacity to continue blowing its unrelenting gale across my blue feet.
I resisted the urge to kick the object across the floor and settled for a sharp tap on the back panel. The elements lit up! Great! Not ten minutes later they died again. Another harder tap produced ten more minutes of heat. Once again it died. The tap became a knock . And so this continued for the rest of the afternoon and evening till eventually I was banging on the darn thing.
Today, the heater is playing the same old game. As I sit writing it cuts in never reaching the set temperature of 70 degrees, then it cuts out , gets a smart tap and goes again. I know it is silly to hate an inanimate object but my beloved infrared heater has let me down and I no longer have the affection for it that I once did. I suppose I will seek a replacement. What fails to warm my life is no longer needed. The heater will have to go.