The temperature dropped substantially in the night, and when I got up this morning, the house wasn’t just chilly, it was cold. The hardwood and tile floors were cold on my feet; the tile counter was cold against my belly. The thought of getting out of a sweetly hot shower and stepping into the freezer of my tiny bathroom is terrible to contemplate. And then I remembered that the old house comes equipped with heat lamps and fans in the ceilings of the bathrooms. I flip the switch and hear the old engine groan to life, slowly picking up speed, the smell of burnt dust drifting down. The heat begins to radiate out and all is right in the world.