Because I’m a guy who likes to be clean and fresh — my wife would raise a stink if I weren’t — I get burned up by showers that leave me cold.

That’s what happened one morning when I took a shower in water so absolutely freezing that it could have sent a polar bear into cardiac arrest.

So we called the heating company to send somebody over to fix the furnace, which at that point worked about as well as a cheap cigarette lighter.

“You have sludge,” said a personable technician named Connor.

“I’m old,” I explained. “What about the furnace?”

“It has sludge, too,” he replied.

“What’s the answer?” I asked.

“A new oil tank,” Connor answered.

Our present tank, which sits above ground on the side of the house, is 19 years old. It replaced the previous tank, which was underground and started leaking oil a week before our older daughter’s bridal shower, which was held in the backyard.

“The tank was dug up, which made the side yard look like a war zone, and was temporarily replaced by an old, rusted, above-ground tank that we festooned with balloons and a sign saying, ‘Congratulations!’ This was in full view of the guests,” I told Connor.

“Your daughter must have been thrilled,” he said.

“She was very tankful,” I joked.

Connor smiled and said, “The average lifespan of the tank you have now is about 20 years. You don’t have to replace it right away, but the cold water problem will happen again if you don’t.”

In the meantime, the furnace needed to be cleaned. While he was doing the dirty work, Connor told me about the time he was held up at gunpoint at a gas station while getting fuel for a customer in the middle of the night.

“It was 2 a.m. and I was filling jerry cans with diesel for a customer who ran out of oil,” he recalled.

“I call my bathroom the Jerry can,” I said.

“Anyway,” Connor continued, “this guy came up to me with a gun, but I could see it wasn’t loaded.”

“Was he?” I inquired.

“Definitely,” Connor said. “Then along came his friend. They were working together, so the guy with the gun shooed him away, like he was saving me. He said it was his birthday and he wanted to go inside to buy some Four Loko, which is a drink with booze in it, but he didn’t have any money and wanted me to give him some so he could celebrate. He pointed the gun at me, but I knew it was empty, so I said forget it and the guy walked away. The night shift was very interesting.”

So is the day shift because Connor, who’s 27 and has been on the job for four years, gets to meet customers like the guy who called to complain about a foul odor.

“I knew he had a pretty bad leak because I could smell it from the front yard,” Connor said. “Pressurized oil was going into the soil.”

“Hey, that rhymes!” I noted.

“I used a vacuum and a barrel straw to suck out 300 gallons,” he said. “It took two and a half hours. The guy reeked, too.”

“He probably needed a shower,” I said. “Did he have hot water?”

“Yes,” Connor said. “And now so do you.”

He replaced two filters and one strainer in the furnace, which fired up and was running smoothly once again.

“At least you didn’t blame me for having to take a cold shower,” Connor said. “A lot of customers do.”

“My wife will be happy you fixed the problem,” I said.

“Tell her you helped,” Connor said, “and she won’t blame you.”

“Thanks,” I said. “This is the only time being in hot water won’t get me in hot water.”

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