The news is coming out of the television-background
noise-chatter.
Presidential politics, and a new relationship with Iran,
ancient Persia…warm coffee on my desk in a tall, yellow painted mug. My gray
and white, tawny, tabby cat is watching me, as she usually does this time of
day; 4:00 am, when I am sitting at my desk; writing. I lean back in my chair, and
reach for my hoodie. It is chilly in the room, and I need an extra layer. As
the radiators come to life, hissing and spitting steam. The house had just hit
the low point in the heating cycle. It is below zero in the January morning. The
thermostat told the furnace to turn to turn on; such small devices, with so few
moving parts, that you can hardly call them machines. They sense the
temperature, and trigger a flow of electrons along a thin copper wire, sending
them down into into the basement, to the gas main, where the flow of gas is
increased in the giant, asbestos covered octopus. The flame comes to life and
the water in the boiler-boils, steam rises up through expanding clanking pipes,
whistling through the valves.
Kitty is always interested in the sound of the house warming
up. She turns away from me.
