The house is on the cool side this morning, but that's because we purposely let the fire go out overnight so I could scrape ashes this morning. With that chore done, the stove has returned to business, much to the satisfaction of Chuck, who is a big fan of the hearthrug.

The first estimates for furnace replacement are coming through, and they are just as shocking as I thought they'd be. But what choice do we have? None.

Thus, for the moment I am squinching my thoughts away from that bad story. Today will be sunny, and this afternoon I will drive north to the homeland to spend the night with the dearest of old friends. Tomorrow I'll be in the classroom with a pack of delightful kids. And then I'll drive home in the late-day sunshine to a tepid house and an ecstatic big kitten and a pretty great boyfriend. And then I will start turning my thoughts to Thanksgiving. Despite their hospital ordeal, our New York pair is determined to spend the holiday in Maine, though I've given them every opportunity to back out if that feels best for them. But, yes, they do appear to want to bask in our limping-along heating situation, and Tom says maybe we'll even have a furnace by then. Who knows what miracle an HVAC guy can pull off? If he doesn't, at least roasting a turkey will warm up the house and we can sit around the fire wrapped in blankets and drinking hot cider. Our boy grew up in the woods. He's used to it all.

You know what's worse than not having a furnace in November? Not having running water. That is my very least favorite household emergency, and I had way, way too much of that in Harmony. This no-furnace stuff is a comparative piece of cake.