January 25, 2010

• 3 AM-Why am I still up?

  I’m not “still” up.  I’m up again, already.

  A fortunate chain of events woke me in time to tend the woodstove and restart a fire that Doug had put out with wood.  He was talking in his sleep.  I don’t know what he said, but it woke me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Ummm… dreaming.”  He answered after a pause.

  “Okay,” I replied.  “How’s the fire?”  The last thing I had said to him as I went to sleep around 9 PM was, “When you go down, either set an alarm or wake me so I can tend the fire.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, as I was rolling over in bed to look at the fire.  I could see no fire.  Through the big glass in the door of the stove,  I saw wood – fresh blond wood with no charring, no smoke, no flame, not even a glow of coals.

  I spoke the line that I think originated with Doug himself, on one of the previous times I had asked him how the fire was, “Fire… what fire?”  He mumbled something, and I told him I couldn’t see any fire.  He swore mildly, and I asked him if he wanted me to get up and deal with it.

  “No, I’ll do it,” he said.  I could hear the couch creaking as he got up, then heard the squeal of the hinges on the woodstove door.  He poked at it, shut the door, told me there was still fire in there, and crawled back into bed.

  I looked, and could still see no fire, so I got up and got the fire going.  He had done something he does occasionally when he is either sleepy or distracted.  He put the fire out with wood.  All the hot coals had been pushed to the back of the stove, away from the air supply, and the air holes were blocked with ashes.

  I pulled out the wood, found some chips for kindling, cleared the air holes, rebuilt the fire, then sat there and watched as it caught.  I was thinking, asking myself if I could get back to sleep.  I decided I’d just as well get up.  I put on my glasses and slippers, turned on the radio (BBC noon news on NPR) and started coffee.

  Good morning, world.

  

  • 7:45 am
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