Burning with anticipation
Close enough to to touch but that might be dangerous
It is so close. Any day now, I'm going to do it. I am going to pull the trigger. I'm going to pick up the phone. I'm going to make that call. I'm going to make it all happen all over again.
I’m going to make a great big mess.
When I think about what’s coming, my chest tightens, my skin and crawls all the way up my back and off into the sunset like some ugly, bloody bag of skin, cut lose by the electic carving knife of anticipation
What comes next?
I’m almost certain it will be early in the day. It'll probably happen in the morning. Oh, it always does. A time of the morning when the birds have been around calling for a while and the people and their dogs and their families are starting to make their way up and out and into the good world
That's when it's going to happen.
That is when the two cords of cut and split firewood will arrive.
That's right baby. I'm talking about my woodpile stacking wood season. And I am frothing in anticipation of getting a hard wood delivery.
Beep beep beep baby back that truck up here and drop off a giant load of 100% Nova Scotian hard wood I'm going to sort it, split it, smack it and stack it.
Once it’s here we’re getting ready. Me and my wood. We’re getting ready to burn.
I’ve got a yearning for wood.
A yearning for wood burning.
Some are cool. Others, like me tend to run hot.
I’m grateful that heating my house makes me excited, hot even before I light the match.
What ordinary, necessary things do you become irrationally excited for?