We heat our house solely with wood. We keep a week’s worth of firewood on hand in a bin near the door.
Weekly, as the firewood bin starts to look empty, there are a few stragglers at the bottom of the bin. There’s a rotten piece, a skinny piece that’s way too long to fit inside the wood-stove, and there is one big chunky piece, which we’ve already tried to jam into the wood-stove a couple of times to no avail.
You see, this chunky piece of firewood has a nub protruding out of its top. Because of this protruding nub, no matter which way we spun this odd-shaped piece of firewood it just wouldn’t go in. Unlike the last time, it was simply impossible to get this piece inside the wood-stove.
After attempting to jostle it into the wood-stove, we’d sigh, haul the irregular piece back to the bin, and throw it back inside the wood-bin–to be dealt with at another time.
Every week, as the firewood supply in the bin grew low, old nubby would still be there, jammed in the bottom of the wood-bin–last to be picked, never wanted, not quite right.
Well, I guess Cameron got sick of looking at old nubby in the bottom of the bin, because today old nubby got surgery on the hearth. Old nubby’s protruding nub was removed, and old nubby finally went up in smoke to keep us warm.
Thanks, old nubby. I won’t say that I’ll miss you, because I’m glad you’re no longer sitting forlornly at the bottom of our wood-bin. But at least you will forever be commemorated in this eulogy.
