Winter morn

Ahhh!

I didn’t want to get up. My toes told me it was too cold. My fingertips repeated what my toes said. My nose joined the discussion. My mind stayed neutral.

I put on some warm socks, a flannel shirt over my thermal pajama shirt, and topped it all with a warm robe. The temperature in the house was 58. The outdoor thermometer screamed -22. The scrawny cat shivered near a heat duct. Smart animal.

How to warm up quickly? A cuppa. A fire.

Music. Oatmeal. After I fed the cat.

Coffee warms in the winter and seems to cool in the summer. It helps the brain to kick in. It also suspends time just enough for the early sun to hit the outdoor thermometer. Only -20 after my first cup.

I start a fire in the kitchen stove. It wanted to start. The stove, the wood, the matches were cold. They work together. Within minutes, the outside temp has climbed to a -18. The inside temp is up to 60. Close to the stove, it’s 65. Ahhh!

I listen to a little prattle on NPR. It’s too early for them to get serious and do a commentary on Judge Scalia. I don't really want serious, but I don't need cute dialogue. I light up a fire on the radio as I insert a CD of pop music sung by Mexican soprano Olivia Gorra. Her passion is warmth. Mexico’s gift to this cold country. I don’t understand the Spanish, but I extract the heat anyway. 

The outside thermometer reads a toasty -10 in the sun.

My tingling toes and fingers have left me a while ago. It’s 70 near the stove, 65 near the thermostat.

I open the instant oatmeal, pop it into the microwave for 1.5 minutes; top it with a banana from my tree out back; and flavor it with Vermont maple syrup really from trees around here.

A trip to the woodshed in a minute or two and I’ll be ready for the rest of the day when the wind will die down, and it will be plus ten before sunset. They predict another night of cold, not as bad as it was last night, and then back to spring on Tuesday. We have had about a week of real winter. Last year, we had three months when it didn’t get above 30, so I count my blessings today in gallons of oil not used, mountains of warm coats hanging in wait, long johns still neatly folded in the drawer, and warmth from so many sources.

The sun peeking through the windows.

The unclean dishwasher-Marty™ to the rescue

I started my day as usual, two cups of Joe. Then, I was drawn into something weird. My dishwasher. It was full of clean dishes that I promptly unloaded to their proper shelves. Something was missing.
I asked Marty™ to look inside for the missing green cap from my empty vitamin bottle. I was afraid it had fallen to the bottom and had disintegrated on the heat element. Marty™ made himself small so he could fit inside and walk around. I shined my new flashlight to help him see.
"Ugh! What  mess!"
" It's melted onto the heat thing, isn't it. I'm glad you found it before it got worse,"I said.
"Well the green thing is just laying on the bottom. It looks fine, but what a terrible, terrible mess. I have to put on my mud boots."
Thud. Oof!
"What's happening in there?"
"Mud, sludge. Get me outta here."
I helped Marty™ out of the dishwasher. He was a mess, and he stunk.
" What's the problem? How come you look so bad?"
"Look, Phil, this is a great dishwasher, but it doesn't know how to clean itself. You gotta get in there and do the work yourself. I don't think any of these appliances are self cleaning."
I took out the filter. It had trapped food for months, years. Peas, broccoli,  carrots, barely recognizable as food. Even a couple of screws from nowhere in particular. I removed a stainless steel strainer. Muck,mud. A virtual septic tank.
I let Marty™ rest. He deserved it after what he had been through. I got out my rubber gloves and some natural spray detergent. I let the filter and strainer soak in the detergent and hot water while I sprayed the inside and scooped out the sludge with paper towels. I didn’t want to waste a good rag or sponge on the mess. With the main compartment really clean, I tackled the filter and strainer. I needed a brush and a blunt end knife for the operation that lasted another half an hour.
I don’t like to give advice about household stuff. There are experts. Probably that well hidden manual tells about the proper maintenance. I know what I have to do.
For those who don’t know him, Marty™ is my superhero. He can do wonders around the house, has the ability to increase or decrease in size. He can time travel across thousands of years and thousands of miles. A real friend, who helps out in difficult situations, speaks up when necessary, and even falls in love.