There was a floor furnace in the house on Twelfth Avenue my friends and I rented when we were undergraduates at Bama. I remember so many fall and winter days coming home from class, exhausted and cold, to sit or lie next to the grate of that furnace so I could get and stay warm. It was an old house with very little insulation and windows that often allowed cold air to whistle through their frames into the rooms.
Often, I’d fall asleep, and my feet would slip or relax and land on the furnace. The soles of my shoes would start to put off a scorched smell that woke me up before much harm was done.
I’m chilled today, though it’s not that cold outside, so I’m sleepy. Fortunately, our gas fireplace isn’t turned high enough to scorch my socks. I can barely keep my eyes open as I edit. Geez, I hope my novel isn’t boring.
I have a log burner in my living room which was installed by the people I bought The Hermitage from. I have never been able to light it, however, since the fumes would kill the birds. I have three pillar candles in it instead, which looks quite lovely. I need the central heating for warmth, clearly!
We couldn’t use the fireplace at The Compound, as it had been blocked, but I always kept wood in it and used either candles or white Christmas lights in it for a warming little glow. I love a real log burning fireplace in larger houses.