It was a grand Thanksgiving. Husband outdid himself with the turkey and, indeed, the entire meal. (His secret is to place the turkey upside down in the pan for roasting; it bastes itself that way.) Aitch was well-behaved during dinner and, incidentally, ate like a stevedore. And my father figured out why our heating bills have been so high.

In all the time we’ve owned the house, we’ve never closed the storm windows.

Now that I think about it, it makes perfect sense. We bought the house in the summer, when the previous occupants would have had the storm windows open, and we never thought to close them. Because we are, oh, how to say it in English, DROOLING MORONS. Pardon me while I wipe down my keyboard.

It’s a good job we didn’t buy the place in winter, when the former owners presumably would have vacated the house with the storm windows closed. We would have saved money during the cold weather, but summer would have found us wandering around a stifling house, remarking on the curious lack of a breeze.

Why hasn’t any social worker been out here to evaluate our fitness as homeowners?