"Why not simply reboot it?" you ask.
It appears--I'm not sure I fully understand it--that we had a power outage last weekend that fried the ROM that the furnace boots off of.
This means that--until "Ralph" arrives tomorrow to save the day--that because we are having a cold snap it is 58F degrees here in the family room, which means that the nineteenth-century English professor clothes--the wool pants, the long-sleeved broadcloth shirts with the button-down collars, the heavy tweed jackets, et cetera--actually, finally make some sense.
But I'm going into the kitchen, where it is 64F right now.
Yet more evidence that the Singularity already happened. I have no idea how I would explain this to ancestors like Priscilla Mullins...