Nonna Next Door: The Furnace Guy

So the heat died out at my house, which sucks, but the trio of Nonna, Dre, and I quickly figured out what we were going to do about this.

We called up the people we needed to call up, and the furnace guy was set to come in the next day at 7 A.M. I don’t know about you, but that’s pretty early for me. He said he was going to call before hand to make sure we were there.

Things like this make Nonna nervous. Very nervous.

So sure enough at seven in the morning the phone rings. Only one ring, Nonna picked it up. She had been waiting all morning for this call.

I roll out of bed, my vision hazy, crust balls forming in my eye sockets.

For the readers at home, keep in mind is that I usually get to bed far past 2 A.M, so this is a test in my ability stay awake.

“Miiiiiichael.”

Nonna is downstairs calling my name.

“Miiiiichael,” she says again. Her voice travels through my bedroom door, it’s odd I know.

“I’m up!” I shout back.

I get out of bed and sit down at the kitchen, I’m half asleep.

Nonna is peering out of the window, waiting for the man. He’s already called, she knows he is coming, but yet she waits.

She is wearing grey poofy slippers, a red pajama gown, and she seems shorter than normal.

“Nona why are you standing there?”

“I wait for the guy,” she says, accent and all.

By this time I know how to deal with Nonna. I ignore the shit out of her. It’s the only way.

Everything she does is ridiculous, and she must know it too. So I choose to not acknowledge it. If I do, she’ll just make me nervous.

The phone rings again. I’m sitting at the kitchen table and the little woman sprints to the phone. She shouts for me to pick it up, but beats me to it.

One ring.

I stand up, she’s in full sprint.

Two rings, Nonna is looking at me, freaking out, while standing next to the phone.

Before the third ring, she picks it up and throws it into my hands.

The man is here. The lucky part is that the guy who did show up to fix this thing is easily the nicest person in the world. He chats up Nonna, and answers every one of her silly questions.

I show him where the furnace is, he starts to work away.

Nonna then proceeds to stand directly behind him for 40 minutes, watching his every move.

I think this is creepy and head back up stairs. I can hear her voice from the basement, she’s got passion in her voice. They start talking about each others life story. Apparently they both grew up in Montreal.

The work is done, the heat is back on. I’m in the kitchen again, making breakfast while the furnace guy packs up and leaves. She walks into the kitchen and I finally say what I’ve wanted to say for so long.

“Nonna, your crazy.”

“When I was your age, I wish I had a Nonna like yours!”

Thanks Nonna.

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