I’d know the drill when it comes to getting our heating oil. But, sure enough, this morning, the heating oil guy came. And, sure enough, I was totally unprepared.
For those of you who have never lived in Germany, or elsewhere in Europe, most houses here are heated by either heating oil or gas. Some newer homes now have heat pumps, and, in fact, our landlord has told us he intends to install a heat pump system in his home and ours. That’s why we got new windows last summer. But doing that is a major undertaking, and I’m not sure when the work will be done. So, for now, we have to order heating oil every year.
When we lived in our first German house, we had to buy gas. I don’t think gas heating is as popular here as oil is, probably because the gas historically comes from Russia. Although Avia, the company that brings us oil, is Swiss, I’m not actually sure where the oil comes from. I would assume it comes from Russia, as well. Our former landlord told us that he prefers oil heating over gas because of the Russians. So I’ll go with that… (My German friend says the oil is also from Russia, but now it gets routed through India, thanks to sanctions against Putin. I don’t know why former landlord didn’t realize that. Maybe he just didn’t want to buy gas from Gazprom, which is a Russian company.)
Bill ordered oil on Saturday, and I think he was expecting it to take more time than it did to get to us. Usually, he’s here to deal with the oil guy, because they let us know when they’re coming. In the past, I have dealt with them, but it was no big deal. In our old house, it was obvious where the oil tanks were. They were in our basement, plain as day. In this house, they’re in a separate room, where I never venture. In prior years in this house, the same guy brought the oil and knew where everything is.
Bright and early at 7:30 AM, the doorbell rang. I was not (and still am not) dressed. I answered the door to a pleasant looking man who spoke excellent English (not always a given). He told me he’d come with our heating oil. I then had to spend time scrambling to find where the tanks were. This was the guy’s first visit to our house, and this neighborhood, so he asked me to tell Bill that next time he orders oil to warn them about how narrow our street is, so they can bring a smaller truck.
I also had to be reminded how to turn off the heating. In our old house, there was a big button no one could miss. In this house, there’s a button on the wall that is easy to ignore, as well as a small one among several on the heating machinery itself. So I asked the guy how to turn off the heating. He showed me the switch, then told me to wait a couple of hours before I turn it on again. That way, the dirt doesn’t get mixed in with the oil and mess up the system.
Again, as I mentioned earlier, our landlord has been vowing to put in a heat pump system since we moved into this house in late November 2018. Will we have it by next year? I don’t know. Putting in the heat pump will require a lot of drilling and other intensive, expensive, and unpleasant work. I know the landlord would like to schedule it when we’re on vacation, so we’re not in the way.
But at least this year, we have our oil. It’s not good when the tanks go dry. In our first German house, we had the unpleasant experience of running out of gas. I had to take bucket baths for a couple of days until the gas guy could fill up the tank. That was an experience from my Peace Corps days that I didn’t have any desire to repeat.
I do feel fortunate to live in such a nice home… with a landlord who upgrades things without trying to make his tenants pay for it. I think he gets an incentive for making the switch, though. The German government wants to stop relying on Russia for energy. I can’t blame them for that. But as nice as this house is, some things about it are pretty old school.
Anyway… at least that chore is done… until next time (if there is one). Next time, I’ll have to remind Bill to give them my cell phone number, so I can have warning and be dressed when they arrive.
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