The Heck With Propriety

The winters in Missouri can be long and mean, not as bad as the Northern States but still it could get bone chilling cold. One of my favorite sounds is the sound of the propane truck coming down the dirt road. It was one of the sounds of winter that meant continued comfort.

I found out this morning it was a sound that I did not forget.

When the nights in Tucson took on a chill, I tried to find propane.  We went through two bouts of pneumonia in a years time and I was determined to find propane. We have one of the smallest propane tanks made for a motorhome, it is basically worthless. The owner of the park is just to busy to help us in our search for propane. I could not drive my motorhome to his propane tank to get it filled every other day.  I called every propane company that was listed in the phone book but all of them said they could not set a 100 pound tank for me. We have been bundling up, running a small electric heater, and just making do.

This morning bright and early found me snuggled up under my blanket sound asleep. I was woken by a familiar sound. The sound of winter, the sound of comfort, and I leaped out of bed. The heck with propriety, I ran out the door in my night clothes, hair sticking up, mouth swollen with fever blisters, and what a sight I was.   I scared the propane driver half out of his mind.  I was ready to hock the family farm, give up my first born son, and my evil ways just for a 100 pound cylinder filled with liquid warmth.  I would have said prostitute myself but with my appearance at that time and my personal beliefs I won't.   He had a cylinder strapped to his truck and viola I had propane.  He will even come and keep it filled for us.   I wanted to hug him but I refrained.

Life is WARM!