My Friend, the Furnace

I have been worried about my friend the furnace ever since I wrote in my last blog post that it felt good to go outside and be warmed by the sun, not the furnace. I in no way meant to imply that I don’t appreciate being warmed by the furnace all winter. I most certainly do appreciate it, and I enjoy daily conversations with the furnace, too. It’s very talkative and rumbles and whooshes on and off all day long. OK, I have to admit I have never actually met the furnace face to face. It lives in the basement, and I’m too scared to go down there. But, like me, the furnace has a voice that carries throughout the house, and it talks to me quite regularly. It’s a very interesting conversationalist and a nice housemate to have even though, as I understand, it has quite a hefty appetite and insists on eating only expensive imported food. I don’t quite get that part. I myself am quite happy to eat food that grows around here, berries from our field, for example, though not any worms—I’m no dumb robin. But anyhow, despite its unusual appetite, the furnace is a good friend to have.