So we’ve got that going for us, which is nice.

Another multi-layered morning under the blankets, writing and typing and working upon a rather colorful Vera Bradley lapdesk, The Morkie next to me, space heater still running, the open oven turned back on and, while I’m all but certain we’ve melted an ice cap or two or three, it is nonetheless quite comfortable in this realm between blackout curtains. T-minus +/- 60 minutes until the new furnace and water heather and chimney bipass installation begins.

On my mind in this temporary exercise in frigidity: Furn the Furnance's death had been one of my greatest - if not the greatest – fears in this house (when I was a wee toddler, we had a furnace explode and hurl soot and ash through the entire house; one of my few childhood memories): how would we handle it, how would it go down, etc etc – and now that it's come to fruition (on the first wind chill advisory of the year), a palpable – though still cold - relief that it's done. It wasn't terrible – worrisome, yes, esp. when the first date to replace was Monday (moved up to today thanks to the kindness of an understanding individual who switched appointments because they had heat and we didn't) – but we handled it.

Even more relief that that chimney will be bypassed and I won't have to wait for it to explode or pump the house full of carbon monoxide. Oxygen is nice.

As far as The Work goes, while I managed to make some progress on the narrative flaws in AnotherFictionThing, I do miss my office. Writing under the blankets on the chaise with The Morkie isn't horrible – it's kinda nice to let loose the reigns a bit – though it is, I'm finding, far too easy to slide into distractions and random flights of internet fancy/rabbit holes.

The day – along with heat and hot water – awaits.