Saturday, December 1, 2012


My upstairs neighbor's boyfriend has taken to gathering fallen limbs from the alleys after storms and stacking them in the backyard for our shared fire pit. And he doesn't even live here! It's so great.

It is a great personal shame of mine as an aspiring woodsy-type person that I completely suck at building fires. This Girl Scout dropout from the suburbs can only manage to produce an astounding quantity of flameless woodsmoke, which I can somehow will to blow in everyone's face at once, no matter where they're sitting. I would fare horribly in the post-apocalypse. Though Nick says he will make sure I'm not cast out of our commune due to my uselessness. (If he survives!)

I once lived in a house with a glorious, cozy, crackling wood stove but could only make use of it when my roommate was around to make the fire happen. Sometimes he would come home late from the bar to find me crossing my arms and staring into the inactive stove, with a beer tucked into the waistband of my pajama pants.

He would laugh. "Hey buddy...need me to do the thing?"

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