Little House In The Suburbs

I've been thinking about Laura Ingalls Wilder this week.


Part of our heater blower broke Saturday night, so we have had no heat. At 5:50am on Sunday Zirpu was running around the house trying to figure out what was causing this plasticky smell. I got up with him but was so exhausted and out of it that after he told me that something was wrong with the heater, I asked if he needed me to help him with this or could I go back to bed? In my fuzzy state I sort of registered that going back to bed wasn't an option. When Zirpu went under the house and determined the heater was not on fire, he turned off the heat and I went back to bed.


So we have had no heat since Sunday morning and have been burning logs in the wood stove insert in the living room fireplace and sleeping in hats and under three quilts. Except in the middle of the day, when the sun is high enough to warm up the house, it's pretty much sucked. Except that we don't live in Oklahoma and the other places where it really is cold and people haven't had power for days. I'm good at perspective, but I'm shivering as I write this, which makes it longer for me to write.


I've been thinking about the part in one of the Little House books (I forget which one) where Laura's describing the winter when it was so cold that Ma insists that the girls stay in bed to stay warm and the snow is too deep for Pa to go to town and get Christmas presents. I think the girls are concerned about Santa being able to get out to them because of the snow. Then Pa's friend shows up, having waded through the deep snow! He brings with him gifts from Santa for Laura, Mary and Carrie, and a sweet potato for each person. That is Christmas enough for Laura.