I was heaving in the toilet when Max found me.
As I was finding out, a broken heart and tequila shots are a recipe for disaster.
My innards were almost turning inside out. At that point, I did not know which was more painful, the physical or the emotional pain. I had given my all to that relationship, but it took a turn for the worst. When Max was sure I would not throw up anymore, he guided me to the couch and brought me water. He then started complaining about how cold my house was. He tried resetting the smart thermostat, and when that failed to help with indoor comfort, he called the heating business. I know more about heating than he does, but I was in no condition to assess the problem, and quite frankly, at that point, I did not care. The heating industry fascinates me greatly, and I am always looking out for new technology. Max finally got hold of a heating dealer and asked him to come as soon as possible for heater maintenance. One hour later, the heating company car was parked on the driveway. Max guided the heating technician to the heat pump installation. The HVAC professional worked on the heat pump for an hour and a half. Max went to the kitchen to make me some soup, with the whole home heating system working as it should. He said that he might not have the cure for the heartbreak, but he knew how to minimize the effects of a hangover. After taking the soup, I felt a little better and decided I had wallowed in my misery long enough, and it was time to get back to living.