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smeckerHome-sweet-home currently has several extra guests, everyone who's sheltered here from the brutal winter outside. It's not exactly balmy inside the Birdhouse-- even with the insulation and the heaters, the internal temperature is hovering in the high fifties, because the open spaces inside are just too large-- but that's miles better than the temperature out of doors.
"Note to self," Paul mutters to his tablet, using its recording function, "work on subdividing the second floor into individually insulated storage rooms, convertible to dorms in emergency."
He's on his way down from said second-floor to the ground floor, where the kitchen facilities are. They haven't tried the ground floor door in a couple of days now, the weight of endless snow holding it solidly shut, so the main entrance/exit is currently the rooftop egress, which is being kept clear by rigorous shoveling on the hour.
The generators are doing their job though. Paul adds another note to his tablet: send Glitch a thank-you card-- and beelines for the stove, where he's got a big-ass pot of soup simmering. It's not going to win any Gastronomie awards (oh does Paul ever hate cooking with canned goods), but it's hot, and it's nourishing and fatty and perfect winter food.
"Anyone hungry?" Paul asks of whoever is in the room at large.
"Note to self," Paul mutters to his tablet, using its recording function, "work on subdividing the second floor into individually insulated storage rooms, convertible to dorms in emergency."
He's on his way down from said second-floor to the ground floor, where the kitchen facilities are. They haven't tried the ground floor door in a couple of days now, the weight of endless snow holding it solidly shut, so the main entrance/exit is currently the rooftop egress, which is being kept clear by rigorous shoveling on the hour.
The generators are doing their job though. Paul adds another note to his tablet: send Glitch a thank-you card-- and beelines for the stove, where he's got a big-ass pot of soup simmering. It's not going to win any Gastronomie awards (oh does Paul ever hate cooking with canned goods), but it's hot, and it's nourishing and fatty and perfect winter food.
"Anyone hungry?" Paul asks of whoever is in the room at large.
