By Martha Reed
So there I was, sitting at my desk having survived the holidays reasonable intact (both mentally and physically), happy to be back in the groove and working away on finishing Chapter 25 and with my eye actually on finishing the whole damn book by March when I noticed that my fingers were stiff with cold.
Granted, it was an exceptionally chilly day here in Western Pennsylvania at 17 degrees and with a negative wind chill factor and I do live in an 125 year old house than can get a bit drafty but when I checked the radiator next to my knee I found it was stone cold. In Pittsburgh, in January, that is never a good thing.
So I suppressed my anxiety and called my favorite heating company and put my name on their list. That was 4 hours and approximately 16 degrees ago. It has gotten noticeably colder in my house and I’ve preemptively moved into my bedroom on the assumption that with the door closed my body heat will at least keep the temperature above freezing. I tried a cup of hot tea about an hour ago but the tea got cold even before I finished it so I cast around for some alternative solutions and remembered my heating pad (which runs on electricity). I am now very comfortably toasting my … toes while waiting for the repairman to show up.
I will say the temperature is keeping me on track with finishing my weekend writerly chores. I’ve answered every possible email, revised a proposed schedule for a Writers Retreat in March and completed this blog two day ahead of schedule not to mention writing an epic bit of Chapter 25 before putting it away for the day.
It’s amazing what a little enforced seclusion can do!