Ghost started trying to wake me up sometime around four in the blessed AM. At first, after sticking my head out of the blankets and then sticking it right the hell back in, I said LB could bloody well crap on the floor if he needed to. I’d set the oven on low to keep some heat in the Lair, but pretty clearly it didn’t stay lit. My little black thermometer ventured out of the bed briefly, came back in damn cold, and informed me in no uncertain terms that in her opinion the dogs could go hang.
Finally struggled downstairs to see what was the matter. Both boys wanted outside bad, but not for very bloody long. Wouldn’t you know this would be one of those mornings when the fire just refuses to stay lit?
I may not have mentioned it before, but I really hate winter.
