Huddled 'Round the Furnace

It's just like camping, but better - inside a house that has actual, not zippered doors, a full kitchen and indoor plumbing just down the hall.

This morning I got so chilled, I sat on an ottoman next to the floor furnace and grilled my feet on top of it. They're now perfectly par-cooked and ready to be ordered.

Once my feet get cold, I can only get warm from a 30-minute boiling-hot shower or feet grilling. Somehow my thyroid slid down my neck and has lodged in one of my heels.

It felt so good to have my feet warm, I put on thick socks and propped my Uggs upside down on top of the heater so they could be pre-heated, then I continued to cook my feet inside their socks. Holy crap that felt amazing.

When my feet finally felt cooked through, I put on my pre-heated boots and BLAM - I was all warm again.

Update:
If you read this post before and notice that now something is different - I won't lie. I moved a comma. And I removed the rant that followed in this space. While fun at the time, it wasn't something that should remain for the long term. You know, it's just one of those things - you're really bugged at the time, but it's minuscule in the big scheme of things. And I don't want to upset anyone. I like to vent. Who doesn't?