I got back from the store to discover that it takes more than a couple of hours for this house to go from freezing to warm. So I decided to try to start a fire.
Now, the homeowner has a big pile of firewood. Which he keeps at the bottom of a steep slope, in the middle of the yard, up against the fence. There’s no good way to get to it when there isn’t snow on the ground and no possible way to access it when there is.
I looked in the fireplace and realized there was some wood that we never finished burning last winter. I opened the fireplace door, put in some fire starters and noticed a dead wasp just where the door had been. Creepy. Then his leg stretched. Like he was waking up from a long winter’s nap. So I did what any paranoid person would do in the same circumstance. I quickly lit the fire starter blocks and shut the door… then watched the wasp wake up and wander toward the fire where he eventually met his probably painful demise. Cruel. But he was gone. Then again, so was my fire. Hmmm… need more wood.
I scoured the basement for scrap wood. Found just one piece that didn’t appear to have paint on it. I went outside to confirm my inability to reach the snow-covered firewood pile. Check. But I did find a log on the patio. It will do.
Still, no luck with the fire. I finally figured out that every time I shut the glass door, the fire went out. So I called Bill in England to ask how to open the flue. (If he’s going to be sent away for long periods of time, I’m going to call him in the middle of his work day with these stupid questions.) While on the phone with him I followed his instructions, opened the flue then stumbled around the room screaming into his ear. A wasp had fallen onto my head before he flew off to the big window. Here it is, minus one degrees with snow on the ground and I’ve got wasps in the house. I’m just so darn lucky. Oh, I also have a small fire.