I’m at church right now. Steph, Susie, and I arrived early for breakfast, and at the moment we’re killing time waiting for 11 a.m., when the bigger of the two Easter services happens.
Steph bought a new digital camera when she was out yesterday, while Susie and I were buying Webkins, going to Wendy’s, and spending the afternoon at the Whetstone library. I may borrow it to take pictures of my new office. ("Office" is a generous word–it’s my work space in the basement.) I can think of it as my study, since most of my books, my boom box, and very scrambled and disorganized archive are housed there. I just have to try to block out the fact there is a washer and dryer down there, along with the furnace and other pipes.
The furnace has actually kicked on a few times, since there have been temperatures in the 30s most of last week. (According to The Weather Channel, it’s now 41 degrees F.) Our house dates back to the 1930s, and it’s the first one I’ve lived in for awhile that has furnace registers. (One of them, unfortunately, is next to my bedside table, so I wonder just how much coinage I’ve lost down there.)
The house where I lived from kindergarten to seventh grade had a register just outside my bedroom door. The day I learned the cover could come off was the dawn of a new world for me. I took the grille off and used the register as an all-purpose wastebasket (but not for foodstuffs–I was very conscientious about that.)
One of the casualties of my new-found toy was a gold-plated fountain pen that Marietta College gave my dad to honor 10 years of service to the college. I don’t know how I got ahold of it, but–long and short–the pen ended up down the register. I doubt it was incinerated. My guess is that if they ever took that furnace apart, whoever did it would find a mass accumulation of toys, trash, and the pen.
If Dad had his way, I’m sure I would have been next down the register.