The Smell of Burning Dust
Oct. 7th, 2002 11:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
abracanabraI'm not sure if it's fall or winter. Some leaves are still green, but I have the sneaking suspicion that my favorite time of year was just...skipped. It was snowing this morning, around nine o'clock. Bet none of you noticed. That's because you're all cooped up in cubicleland. I'm kind of trapped in front of the computer, editing the novel, but not so's you'd notice. At first I thought it was rain, but then I decided that rain did not shine that way while it slipped side to side like a feather dropped from the sky. And, no, it wasn't raining feathers. Or frogs. I checked.
Yesterday the heat was turned on in our apartment building. We could smell it. It's the smell of dust burning after it has accumulated for many, many moons. Dust is a very strange thing. Now the radiators grumble, groan, and wail while hot water is forced through their veins. I suppose I'd complain, too.
The teakettle is back in its place of honor on the one burner on our gas stove that lights automatically. The rest involve tricky maneuverings with cigarette lighters, matches, and singed fingers. One look will tell you that this teakettle has suffered in the year or so we've owned it. It has weird brown grease splotches marring its shiny shell, and black soot (or something, maybe charred gremlins) clings to its bottom. It still whistles very pleasingly, but I'm not sure if it will ever be clean again. I went through a family-size carton of hot chocolate in two weeks. Mostly it was just me. The Muse is grumbling about the grocery bill. I believe I will have to explain to him again that, in Minnesota at some times of the year, hot drinks are not a luxury, but a necessity.
Yesterday the heat was turned on in our apartment building. We could smell it. It's the smell of dust burning after it has accumulated for many, many moons. Dust is a very strange thing. Now the radiators grumble, groan, and wail while hot water is forced through their veins. I suppose I'd complain, too.
The teakettle is back in its place of honor on the one burner on our gas stove that lights automatically. The rest involve tricky maneuverings with cigarette lighters, matches, and singed fingers. One look will tell you that this teakettle has suffered in the year or so we've owned it. It has weird brown grease splotches marring its shiny shell, and black soot (or something, maybe charred gremlins) clings to its bottom. It still whistles very pleasingly, but I'm not sure if it will ever be clean again. I went through a family-size carton of hot chocolate in two weeks. Mostly it was just me. The Muse is grumbling about the grocery bill. I believe I will have to explain to him again that, in Minnesota at some times of the year, hot drinks are not a luxury, but a necessity.
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It was 60 degrees here today.
Damn global warming. I think I'll go smash in a few SUV windshields now.