Burn, Baby. Burn.

It's been a busy day here at Highlands.  Fenchurch-Dad and Fenchurch-Mom came to visit and kick start their New Year's exercise program - by smashing out a cast iron tub and chasing Frogstar around the house, respectively.  Photos tomorrow.

In other news, one of our early home upgrades was a new wood fire chimney liner and Jotul Oslo wood stove.  For emergencies.

Like when the heating oil company forgets that you have two furnaces and two oil tanks and only fills one tank (the one NOT connected to the furnace for the main living and sleeping spaces).

Then everyone is sitting around after dinner complementing Fenchurch-Mom's chili ("Genuinely good." says Zaphod), and someone wonders aloud whether it really is cold in here or whether it's just them.  And the programmable digital thermostat is fussed over and much insulted before Zaphod asks the all-important question..."Is the tank empty?"

Fenchurch is aghast at the idea of 500+ gallons of heating oil being gone already ($$$). Trillian (always practical) descends to the basement and returns to confirm that the tank is, as suspected, empty.

"Can you call them?" whines Fenchurch.  "I'd just end up being snarky."  Trillian politely made the call. (Polite to both Fenchurch and the oil company.)

An hour later (8pm), the tank was filled and the furnace restarted, but by then, Fenchurch had declared it an emergency, lit the fire, made coffee and settled in to a place within feet of the blaze.

Posted by Fenchurch, by the fire.