Happy Friday — we’re back with more Hot Bones after a week of some crazy May-December whiplash. For a brief few days, walking barefoot on bathroom tiles was no longer miserable, and for a few evenings hot creamy soup no longer sounded appetizing.

Then it snowed again. Welcome back, broccoli cheddar.

Do one long thumb scroll for more Cville-specific updates like local events, cool houses, and pets to adopt.

🐶 Speaking of: Clue! Along with her littermates Jenga, Taboo, Rummy, and Scrabble, she’d be the perfect companion to help you wipe off a full Monopoly board with her tail (shepherd mix, 3 months, 10 pounds).

Right after the pandemic started, G and I packed up our respective DC studios and tiny rowhouse rooms so we could move in together. At my parents’ house.

And I have to be honest, when you got past the minute-by-minute panic of Big Germs Everywhere, the situation was pretty great. My parents were never there, so we had the whole house to ourselves. We could blast Beyonce at 11pm without any downstairs neighbors complaining, we could cook popcorn at 3am without any upstairs neighbors complaining, and we could (hypothetically) walk around naked without serious roommate repercussions.

But then all the appliances started breaking.

First it was the dishwasher. Instead of fixing that one, we limped along in a semi-manual, deeply frustrating routine for the next two years. (Full story of that fiasco here.) We also learned to live with an upstairs toilet that ran unless you jiggled the handle exactly four times after every flush.

But when the heat blew that November, we had to figure out how to get things fixed asap. It was a nightmare.

One day the radiators were clicking along, and the next day it was eerily quiet and cold. I checked the thermostat. It had stopped registering the temp.

“I think our heat isn’t working,” I told G. “I’m going to check the furnace. Want to join?”

“Into the scary basement?” she said from her workstation, formerly the dining room table. “With the single bare lightbulb?”

“Yeah, it’ll be a date. It’s freezing in here.”

“Maybe we can have an actual date when you come back up instead.” She went back to typing. “You know I’ve been terrified of the basement ever since you told me about the cricket traps.”

That was fair. The unfinished basement of a 100+ year old house will always be a frightening thing. I have many childhood memories of sprinting up the stairs after loading the laundry only to discover my brother had locked me down there. And then there was the time I busted that stupid light bulb string and, after starting to feel my way back upstairs, stepped in the sticky glue of a cricket trap. Full of crickets.

“Okay I’ll see you in a sec,” I said. “And you’ll remember the cardinal house rule?”

“No locking the basement door. You got it.”

So I went into the basement. Beyond visually confirming that the oil tank and furnace were still physically present, I had no other solutions for our problem. The tank still looked ancient and solid. The furnace was still its old self — an oil leviathan breathing in the deep.

I called the HVAC company.

Two very cold days passed before the technician arrived, which gave us plenty of time to miss our broiling hot former apartments and strategize on our covid prevention protocol: We set up all the fans and opened the little basement half-windows and assembled our disinfectant wipe kit for after the technician left. We also locked the basement door lest any germs jiggle the knob and curve around the doorframe.

I talked to the HVAC guy on the phone as he walked down the back entrance steps and into the basement.

“Sorry it’s so dark in there, sir.”

He was very nice about that, or at least what I could hear above the fans in the background.

“The furnace and oil tank are through the hallway to your right. Highly recommend watching out for crickets,” I continued.

I think at that point either the cell connection cut out or he put down his phone to get rid of me.

I paced from the floor above, listening to cranking machinery and wrenches falling on bare concrete.

“M’am?”

“Yes hello are you there? did you fix the issue? do we have heat?” I said through a shiver.

“Um no. But you do have a leak in your oil tank.”

Yikes.

“I’ve stopped it for now and put down an absorbent pad. If the color of the pad starts to look discolored, that means it’s leaking again. Think of it like a diaper.”

“I’m sorry I think you’re cutting out. A diaper for our oil tank?”

“Yes m’am.”

“Hmm. Do we, do we need to like, change it?”

So it’s true: G and I got free rent in a house all to ourselves. But we also had a decrepit, leaking heating system on our hands and a very cold November ahead of us. There were many subsequent technician visits. Many parts were ordered. The HVAC tab built up. It took a couple of weeks to sort everything, including our Betsy Wetsy oil tank.

That may have been when we started looking for a place of our own.

Of course, when we did move out eventually, G and I ended up in that beautiful Arlington bungalow with another antique heating and cooling system that often broke. And then to complete the trifecta, when we came to Charlottesville we moved into a house with a 25-year-old AC unit that was on death’s door the moment we stepped inside.

It died this past summer.

This week, we had a heat pump installed. The guys from Robertson Electric ripped out our useless AC unit and the decade-old furnace in the crawl space, and in less than 7 hours had put a brand-new system in its place.

I found the whole process fascinating, but I also understand that for many other people (like G), talking about heating and cooling infrastructure is worse than finding out you’re in Boarding Group 8.

So here’s my pitch: Heat pumps (which by the way can both heat and cool your home, despite the misleading name) are the secret sauce for helping the planet, saving you money, and building your energy resilience. Also, they’re better for your health because you’re no longer breathing toxic gas fumes or stepping on oily diapers.

If you want to be an environmental steward and stay comfortable in an increasingly volatile climate, heat pumps are your jam.

And and and … you can advocate for a heat pump as a renter, too, because there are new, modular options like Quilt that can keep specific rooms comfortable and still make economic sense for your landlord.

I’m not suggesting anyone go out and buy a heat pump after reading this (HVAC systems typically have a 15-20 year lifespan), but on the day when you do find yourself with a thermostat that’s blinking an error message and it’s 100 degrees out — or it’s 0 degrees and your childhood furnace decides that today’s the day to go to the farm — there are 3 key things to keep in mind about heat pumps.

I. Cost

II. Savings

III. Planet goodness

The average cost to install a heat pump is around $16,500 nationwide, according to EnergySage, and that includes state and local incentives. That’s super expensive, and it’s slightly more than what traditional heating + cooling systems cost (roughly between $10,000 and $17,000, again according to EnergySage).

But in classic consultant fashion, it depends.

There’s what type of system you’re looking at (ex: ductless vs ducts), the location where you live (are there super cold winters? super hot summers?), and there’s the price of electricity in your region (if you live near “data center alley” as Cvillians do, our energy prices are going way up way fast).

Heat pumps run on electricity, which means that they’re primed for clean energy options like solar and wind (more on that in a sec), but it also means your home needs to have enough capacity to power it.

One of the biggest additional costs for installing this type of system is needing to upgrade a house’s energy capacity, which is especially relevant for older homes that have 100-amp breaker boxes. Homes built in the early 90s and later typically have more capacity (200 amps) and can support heat pumps without retrofits.

The upfront costs of any HVAC system are going to suck. So I should mention another option is leasing, which places like Robertson offer. The company that recently bought the company where I work also offers HVAC and solar “subscriptions,” which is another interesting payment idea.

There used to be a $2,000 federal tax credit you could claim for installing a heat pump, but that got cut last year. However, there are a ton of local and state-wide incentives still available, and most of these you can stack on top of each other.

For example, Charlottesville has a program that gives you $1,000 off an Energy Star or cold-climate heat pump (among other energy efficiency upgrades). You just need to have a home energy assessment beforehand.

There’s also the long-term savings of having a heat pump instead of a legacy system. Heat pumps are incredibly efficient — around 3 ‐ 5 times more energy efficient than gas boilers and 2 - 4 times more energy efficient than oil furnaces.

Rewiring America estimates that switching to a heat pump can save you nearly $400 annually, and when you swap out an inefficient system like one that runs on fuel oil, those savings clock in closer to $1,000 per year.

Plus, if you want the full whammy of savings and resiliency, heat pumps can run off solar panels, meaning after the upfront payment, energy won’t cost you a dime.

Heat pumps don’t burn planet-warming fossil fuels, so big win there. And that’s especially important because roughly 60% of a home’s entire emissions (sixty percent!) come from just keeping things cool in the summer and warm in the winter.

In fact, installing a heat pump when the time is right is basically the most effective lever individuals can pull to help the planet.

Plus, once you’ve made the switch, you don’t need to constantly think about it the way I need to constantly remember to put the reusable grocery bags back in the car after going to Wegmans. It’s a highly effective set-it-and-forget-it solution.

Bonus: More and more solar and wind power is being added to the electrical grid these days (replacing sources like coal and natural gas), so when individual homes and apartments have heat pumps set up, that clean energy can go directly toward powering our heating and cooling needs. If G and I were still using that grouchy oil tank, there’d be no chance to do that.

In like a lamb-lion

Jim and Sharon are long-time Hot Bones subscribers. They’re also long-time birders, who have been traveling the world with their binoculars long before Merlin Bird ID was a thing. (Their “life bird” list would knock your socks off.) I asked them to share some tips and experiences from their travels.

Where We’re Located: Nashville, TN

What We Do For Work: Retired!

Favorite Food These Days: Stir fry anything

Top-of-Mind Sustainability Story: Years ago on a trip to Sedona, we were exploring a pond-like nature preserve on the edge of town, which was perfect for birding.

After our visit, we stopped for dinner nearby and started chatting with another couple. We mentioned the nature preserve and what a beautiful spot it was, and they told us they were actually headed to a council meeting about that very spot. Turns out, there was a proposal to develop the area.

The couple asked us to join and speak about our experience as tourists and birders as a way to help advocate for conservation over development. Unfortunately, we had our vacation hats on that day, and not our advocacy hats, so we left the public hearing to the local experts.

We regret not going, and really hope the land was saved for future birders. It just goes to show that opportunities to use your voice can come in surprising places.

Shoutout: Many thanks to the volunteers who helped clean up the ice storm damage from our favorite birding spot (Radnor Lake outside Nashville) six weeks early! Spring bird walks have already begun.

Sustainability Questions: What are some ways to keep a low carbon footprint while traveling for birding opportunities?

If you’d like to be featured as one of the next Humans of Hot Bones, here’s the short survey page. We all deserve a little sustainability hype!

🍜 Meal of the week: Ramen weekend at Ethos. Seven bucks gets you a full bowl with scallions, cilantro, bok choy, and a soy marinated egg.

🏠 Cottage of the week: This country cutie comes with a huge looking glass window, hardwood floors, and the questionable choice of a washing machine as the centerpiece of the kitchen (2 beds, 1 bath, $325k behind Hollymead). Sits on 1.3 acres and more than three-quarters of it borders protected easement land.

🏡 Cool rental of the week: Classic farmhouse night off the Mall. Photos could be better, but built-in bookshelves, an original fireplace, and a huge yard should seal the deal (3 beds, 2 baths, $3,145/month).

📚 Winner winner: The annual, free Reed Environmental Writing Award is next Friday, featuring Christian Cooper and his bestselling book  “Better Living Through Birding.” And fyi this event helps kick off a full weekend of activities for the Virginia Festival of the Book.

🪻 Flowers everywhere: Every year, PEC hosts a walk along the banks of Cedar Run, where thousands of bluebells bloom every spring. It’s pretty darn stunning. This free event isn’t until Sunday, March 29, but registration is required and space fills up quickly.

🛶 If one nature activity isn’t enough: Sign up for the adventure race at Walnut Creek next Saturday, March 21, which includes orienteering, mountain biking, and paddling. Racers will navigate 500+ acres of rolling wooded terrain using only a map and compass. Bring snacks.

💼 Cville job of the week: Policy Associate at East Point Energy (no salary listed).

💾 Remote job: Scope 3 Sustainability Sales Leader at Perennial ($130k - $180k base, plus uncapped commission).

Have an event or rec you’d like to share? Hiring? Interested in advertising? Share any and all info here.