Nov 11, 2005
I made a fire today. It's really hot. I stuck the newspaper pieces in just the right spots and arranged the logs just so. It's my fire. I am in charge of it although it appears unruly behind the glass fireplace doors. No one else will come in and explain how to make it better. That is a happy thing.
It's also good that I have some heat in here, because I no longer have my famous puffy coat and it's finally cold outside. After this story you'll question my decision in making the fire in the first place, and some of you may want to rush right over here to prevent serious damage.
I live in a large group house that costs an arm-and-a-leg to heat. We all live there because it's relatively inexpensive, so if we allowed ourselves the luxury of heat we wouldn't have an advantage over all you other suckers who pay a lot to live in small spaces. So I took an old electric spaceheater from our laundry room. God only knows how long it's been there. I set it up in my bedroom and felt warm for the winter.
One night I came home with my puffy jacket on, felt hot, and took it off. I left it where it landed, which happened to be close to the spaceheater. By morning I was sneezing because of all the burned down flitting about it the air. The spaceheater attacked my puffer and it won. Handily.
P.S. this story is a secret from housemate Jen, who would restrict my rights around all things above room temperature if she found out.
Posted by wharman at 8:13 PM