I got back from Portland last night, turned on the heat and -- uh oh, that smell again. So today I called the power company and they came right out and gave me this:
The nice utilities man said the Co2 levels were very high as he reached up and flipped a switch in the ceiling so the furnace can no longer be turned on. I am huddled around a wee space heater that is heating the air about 4 inches in front of it so if I put my feet right on the grate they might warm up. Time for long johns and big socks. I intend to go to the pool for a swim and a hot tub. Gawd.
Portland was, well, Portland. Everyone rides bikes there. There are many bridges so it's easy to get confused. Powell's is still as wonderful as ever. I bought 15 books: poetry and fiction and non-fiction and three books for Deb for Christmas. They have a whole section of small press books; anthologies and poetry and prose and graphic novels and 'other', books with no category at all. I walked back to the hotel with those books slung from my shoulders. They were very heavy. Even though I have a copy of 'Far From the Tree', I bought a paper copy because, well it was on sale and I wanted to feel it and see it (very large and big and heavy) and I wanted to heft it and know it as a book, not just as some words on an electronic device.
Leaves have fallen in my absence so time to find some neighborhood boys and girls to rake and bag. I have a ridiculous amount of trees. You can't have too many trees.
The house really is freezing. I wonder what a new furnace is going to cost. Sigh.