Domestica

I've let the fire go out because it's time to haul ashes. Propane is keeping the place warm enough, but it is just not right.

Like the air on a 747. You can breathe it, but  it cloys. The odor is wrong. The feel is wrong. It's making me cranky. It's making me think all this modern surliness results from the demise of the oaken fire.

EDIT: Ashes hauled. Propane off. Blaze kindled. The world is a lovely place.