Yesterday was a rainy, gloomy, dank, chilly day. The sort of day in which a stone house gets just that little bit too damp and uncomfortable. The sort of day in which some heat would be nice.
Nothing can ever be easy at Blackrock, you know? I wanted to just put the furnace on for a few minutes, just to take the chill and damp out of the air. Then A. discovered when he was in the cellar that the metal exhaust pipe that leads from the furnace into the chimney was pretty much rusted through. Which means the furnace would basically spew its nasty fumes into the cellar. Healthy.
So, without the option of the furnace, that left the woodstove. I always resist the first woodstove fire of the season. Not because I don't like the woodstove, or appreciate its heat, but because starting the woodstove means moving the extra woodstove chairs into the dining room, where the woodstove is located. Which means that room will be crowded and cluttered until May. I don't like clutter. I do, however, enjoy having warm hands, so A. fired up the stove and we toasted ourselves for a few hours before bed. Then, just for fun, I checked my archives to see when we had started the woodstove last year. (Because the first burning of the woodstove is always a noteworthy event. OBVIOUSLY.)
It was one year to the day since the inaugural burning of 2008. How's that for coincidence?