Fall has finally descended upon our little valley.
It's a magical time of year. All full of hope, and crinkly leaves, and hot chocolate....
Jeremy, being the dutiful, weekend househusband, set the heater to turn on at a comfortable 67 degrees.
So, yesterday, after our walk, the chilly autumn air whisked into the house, and the heater decided it was a good time to turn on.
Lily was walking by the wall vent and stopped.
She looked up at me with watery eyes and said in a droopy, dreamy voice, "Where is this warm air coming from?" and then proceeded to melt in front of the vent on a pile of blankets, the air forced from her lungs in a satisfied "aaahhhhhhh...."
Eden, after discovering it, melted onto the kitchen floor vent.
I remember doing this kind of thing as a kid, but it was usually me pulling hot laundry from the dryer and then burrowing under it.
The only drawback was that eventually the laundry would cool down and then I would be left under a pile of wrinkly, cold clothes that I would have to fold, leaving me with a feeling that life was one big, fat lie.
Laundry still makes me feel that way.
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