“Hooray everyone, the heating is finally off!” So rejoiced a suburban mother on a recent sweet April day. With a flourish, she flicked a switch and cut the terrible flow of dollars to Washington Gas. Children rushed through the house, letting in breezes and birdsong and gusts of green pollen.

Fifteen minutes later, or so it seemed, the air had turned from fresh to moist, from spring to sudden summer, and the woman was standing before the same wall fixture as before. This time, though, she was in a defensive posture.

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