A little morning whining

You know what I've really gotten sick of? I mean, yes, I'm really damn tired of winter in general and all its accouterments, but the thing that REALLY makes me want to throw a tantrum is starting fires. The last week or so has been clear and gorgeous. Nothing to complain about there, right? Wrong.

The beautiful sunny days mean the house gets very warm during the day thanks to the glories of passive solar. Warm enough that I can just let the fire go out. But also thanks to this lack of clouds it gets positively frigid at night, zero or a little below, so if I don't want to wake up to home temps in the low forties (or worse) I have to start a fire again before I go to bed. And I'm sick of it. Sick of getting my hands covered in newspaper schmutz. Sick of using the bellows and coddling the little flames and breathing in the fine ash the bellows stir up and staying up late enough to make sure the fire is really going before I close the damper. I'm tired (literally) of setting my alarm for 2:45 am so I can get up and add another couple of logs. This wood stove nonsense has altogether lost its novelty and charm. So last night I just didn't do it. And while I was perfectly comfortable all night thanks to the mountains of down that compose my bed, this morning was very cold. I woke up at my usual time and started the damn fire and then went back to bed until it was warm enough to move around. (I don't think the cats appreciated my laziness. Sugar would crawl under the covers once an hour or so to warm up and then disappear again to wherever it is she normally sleeps. This is why I need 10 hours of sleep, Sugar wakes me up many many times every night. I'm chronically sleep deprived.)

Thanks to almost two years of experience and obsessive monitoring of my home's interior temperature, I now know the numbers that mean relative comfort. At the lower end of the spectrum, 48 is the magic number. Any colder than that and I need to stay in bed, but as long as the thermometer reads 48 or above I can wear enough layers to be comfortable anywhere in the cabin. At the upper end, my number is 84. During the day I don't mind at all if the cabin gets warmer than that; I love the heat, but 84 is the upper temperature at which I can fall asleep and not wake up 30 minutes later a sodden mess. In the summer there's just no point in going to bed until the temperature in the loft drops to 84 or below and some nights that doesn't happen until quite late.

And, I'm rambling. But I want to remember these little details, and I will forget if I don't write them down. Weather.com predicts the sun will not make an appearance for a few days so chances are I won't have to start a fire again for awhile because I won't be able to let the one I started this morning go out. We might get up to 10 inches of new snow this weekend. Winter is NEVER GOING TO END.