Warmth

A year ago, I had a serious meltdown when a well-meaning friend deposited what was basically a whole tree in front of my garage door. I sort of exploded and exchanged incensed words with him, demanding that he take it away. Everyone was a bit surprised by the quiet man’s rage.

Anyhow, a year on, with heating bills soaring, I probably ought to thank him for our humongous supply of logs, now chopped, seasoning in the wood shed.

It is kind of cozy, stretching out on the sofa beside my wife’s toasty stove. Certainly better than being hunched over my laptop to complete my day’s work at 9.00pm.

Maybe I’ll muster an apology for that unfortunate evening last November, when I lost all sense of perspective and self-control.

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