Feeling the Chill
Great moments in building history: Smoke rises, catch my drift?
“Damn it, Bruss,” bellowed Fred on the other end of the phone line. “I can’t keep the house warm!”
My husband, Michael, knew the voice. It belonged to the owner of the Victorian house that his construction company had renovated six months ago. They had gutted, replumbed, rewired, reinsulated and rebuilt. The house, complete with a new boiler and many feet of baseboard units, should have been easy to heat, even on this December day. This cold snap was not the first one of the season, so Michael figured something was wrong with the house’s heating system.
Michael drove 25 miles to the house, and Fred met him, grumbling about the cold. While Michael scratched his head, his heating contractor checked the furnace. Although he could find no problems, the contractor raised the boiler’s temperature and added two more sections of heat on the first floor. As Michael was leaving, he noticed two windows that had been left open. Fred assured him that they were usually closed. Michael expected not to hear from Fred again.
“Damn it, Bruss,” bellowed Fred over the line one week later. “We just can’t keep warm!” Michael abandoned his current job site, totally puzzled, and again drove the 25 miles to Fred’s house. Michael had been involved in numerous renovations, and his clients had always stayed warm. His formula was easy: Stuff insulation into every conceivable orifice, calculate and install the correct amount of baseboard, and then turn up the thermostat.
The heating contractor replaced the circulation pump (though he could detect no malfunction) and added three more sections of baseboard in the living and dining rooms. They reinsulated the crawlspace and made sure there were no gaps in the insulation. Michael promised Fred there would be no more problems, though he had his doubts. This problem seemed to defy reason. From outside the house, he spotted an open window in one of the bedrooms. Fred said that the house had remained cold, even when all the windows were closed.
When the phone rang the following morning, Michael winced. “This is an emergency,” bellowed Fred. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but we can’t get the temperature above 55°F on the first floor. You better get down here and do something about it!”
Just what we needed during the holidays. Michael called the heating contractor as his frustration level inched toward the boiling point. The contractor checked the boiler and recalculated the amount of baseboard. He assured Michael and Fred that there was enough, but the contractor agreed to add two more sections to the back entry, the coldest area of the house. They also added more insulation to a two-story wall in house. Michael had no more solutions up his sleeve and prayed this one would do the trick.
As Michael put on his jacket in the back hall, he felt cold air whistle past. The draft seemed to head up a semienclosed, three-story stairwell. He followed the breeze up the spiral case. At the top hung a 4-ft. by 4-ft. skylight—wide open.
How had the owners been oblivious to this gaping hole in their roof? The clues, if Michael read them correctly, seemed obvious. This stairwell, seldom used by Fred and his wife, led to the third-floor bedroom belonging to their college-age son. The son was home on Christmas break. Adjacent to his bedroom was the open skylight. Under the skylight sat a comfortable armchair—the perfect place to catch an updraft. Smoke rises. Catch my drift?
The Victorian has stayed toasty warm ever since Michael stood on that comfortable armchair and closed the skylight.
—Deborah Bruss, Bradford, New Hampshire
Drawing by: Jackie Rogers
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