So I get up this morning, and the whole world is covered in ice.
It was starting to melt, but the roads were still crappy. I made it to coffee, which was lovely; made it to work, which was not. And of course Thursdays are the days that I run like a headless chicken to State Hospital in the afternoons. The roads were better, but naturally no one canceled until I got out there. Then? Everyone canceled. Even my supervisor. I still had a lot of work to do from the big house, though, so I thought, fine, I'll stay and do that.
Which, of course, I couldn't, because it wouldn't let me on to the medical record from SH.
Fine. So I took my ball and my bat and went home. As it were.
I got home, took the dog out, changed out of my wet (because it's still raining) work clothes and into my PJs. How nice, I think, to be doing my work at home, with my dog, in my PJs.....alls I need is a roaring fire. So I try to build one.
So I try again. And fail. Try, fail, try, fail. Give up, whine to my friends over text message.
At which point Bill shows up at my door. Bill, who is the master of the fire pit. Builds me a fire in no time flat.
No problem. Milked that for a good four hours. It was lovely. It made all the note writing and collateral calling so much better.
I love a good fire. I love having a fireplace. And mostly? I love my friends.