At twenty-eight, I had my own house, not through hard work or luck.
I may even go to the extent of calling it bad luck.
I inherited the house from my grandparents, who had passed with a five-month gap between their deaths. The general state of the home probably had my grandparents turning in their graves. There was a week when I slept next to the fireplace because the boiler had chosen to break down in the evening. When the HVAC tech came to the house the next day, he told me that the heater was long overdue for heater maintenance. He took me through their HVAC service plan, and I told him to go ahead with it. The only thing I always took note of was replacing the furnace filter, but other than that, I had completely neglected the electric heating system. Not just that, but everything else altogether, their deaths had hit me hard. At work, I was almost always on autopilot. One day, I woke up and decided I was done with my depressive state. I started working on the house every free time I had. As a professional in the heating industry, I decided to install heated floors in my bedroom because it took a long time to heat up during winter. I also installed a new wireless thermostat that I was sure could save up to ten percent of the energy used. I also became keen when it came to the furnace/heater installation so that I could note when a heating repair was needed before the problem escalated. The good thing was that I didn’t need to start looking at new heat and AC products in the heating dealership because the current one still had some years in it.