Something about the neighborhood: there have been so many fires since the temperatures have turned to the negatives, one of which was just one, two, three houses away from our own (ah, when Ryan and I discussed it, the how-much-to-donate to the neighbors' fund, and he flicked those fingers up slowly: one-two-three).
In the winter, we do dangerous things: space heaters to keep us from last year on this day, and the bathtub is now covered in mouse poo (oh, darnitall with my stupid squishy heart!).
All I can say is: Thank goodness, thank goodness, thank goodness.
Three houses away and I'm aware of our home-ness, our meager bedrooms and my stupidity in checking the smoke detectors. It's enough to keep me rooted to that sofa, which brought about the Emily Dickinson-Elizabeth Bishop collection, which kicked me into some poems, and all I can say to you is this: STAY WARM.
1 comment:
Oh no. This made me realize I left the heat on full blast in my apartment. I turned it up for just a minute when I woke up because it was chilly... and forgot to turn it back down.
Bad, wasteful. Dangerous? I hope not! It's not a space heater or anything... but eeek.
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