Last January, I was invited to an anniversary dinner for my cousin and his wife. His wife selected an elegant, high-class venue downtown for the occasion. There was no available parking on the street, so I was forced to walk many blocks in the cold snow. The temperature was down to twenty-eight degrees, with at least more than two inches of snow and ice on the ground, and I was wearing a dress and heels. By the time I carried her heavy present all the way to the restaurant, my feet were wet, and I was shivering. I was anxious to get inside the heated restaurant. Unfortunately, someone thought a fire would supply the perfect ambience for the dinner, but forgot to open the flue on the fireplace. The arena then filled with smoke, forcing the owner to open the windows and doors for ventilation. With outside air coming in, the owner was unwilling to operate the heating plan and waste energy. There was only the fire for warmth, and a steady draft from outside. We all left our coats on and huddled as close to the fire as possible. No matter how hard I tried to warm up, it simply wasn’t going to happen without a functioning furnace. I was left with a throbbing headache and the stench of smoke. Once it seemed I had stayed long enough so as to not be rude, I quickly walked the many blocks back to my car, and cranked the heat on full blast. I was relieved to arrive home, where I could bump up the thermostat, change into dry socks, and finally let the heat warm me up.