I think that everyone develops their personal and unique bit of oddness as time progresses. Choosing something that meets my current interests, I’ve decided that I will be the nutty woman who runs around her house obsessively checking for drafts.
I spring out of my chair in the middle of conversations asking whether someone opened a door. I walk bent over around the perimeter of rooms, hand hovering over the baseboards. I develop Tourette’s at the mention of the previous owner/contractor and dream of football-sized holes in the sheathing discreetly hidden behind the fibreglass pink. I hoard half-price cans of expanding foam and produce them at inopportune moments. Soon I will conduct blower door tests at decreasing intervals and jealously compare the ACH data at parties and social events with believers and unbelievers alike. And finally I will form a club with the motto “Under three ‘cause energy ain’t free” when my obsession with air leakage eventually trumps family, personal hygiene and the general will to live.
In the meantime I am whittling down the double-digit air changes and imagining my day of triumph which should, by current calculations, arrive sometime late Spring. On that glorious day when I have caulked my final crack and foamed my last fracture, I will run through my house naked on a windy day with nary a goosebump to be seen. No doubt crazy will be hot on my heels.