Tuesday, October 16, 2018

The American Standard

She is like a furnace,
Forced air, not a boiler,
There is so much hot wind blown out of her,
It is hard to foil her,

Adjusting her thermostat's like a game,
One you haven't been taught,
A complicated one with no ending,
That you can't e'en remember why you bought,

She's too big to fit through the outside door,
She is too loud to keep,
You would rather sleep 'neath fifty blankets,
Counting a thousand sheep,
Than leave her on,
You know of whom I speak,
You knew naught 'bout climate control back then,
But it's too late now you're an HVAC geek.

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