‘I probably shouldn’t have thrown that precariously zip-locked bag of kitty litter onto the passenger seat of my car,’ I tell myself as I scoop handfuls of tiny recycled wood cylinders out of the impossible nooks and crannies of my interior. Now my hands smell like sawdust and wood chips. Mmm, earthy.
I love the smell of firewood.
That was a segue I didn’t see coming, yet it seems highly appropriate to this time of year.
It’s my favourite time, when it’s just getting cold and crispy enough to have the fireplace burning.
Mum did a test fire, seeing as though it’s a new house and we’ve never used the fireplace before. Needless to say she smoked the house out and we were happily introduced to the living room smoke alarm for the first time.
Those things are like horror movie monsters. They just keep coming back, no matter how many times you kill them.
It was quite appropriate that I was watching Grimm at the time it went off, as it coincided with a fire demon bursting up through a man hole in all its blazing glory. Now I’m thinking that if only the victims on that show had fire alarms, maybe they’d be warned of their skin melting, internal organ cooking death.
It’s funny how your internal logic works when watching a show like Grimm. You see I couldn’t swallow some god like volcano monster’s existence, yet all the human shape-shifting ones I’ve totally accepted as realistic.
That and dragons. Because dragons are badass. Especially when they reign torrents of fire down on your foe after you momentously declare ‘Dragons are not slaves’.
Holy crap. If you know what I’m referencing then you’ll understand my turn of phrase. Singularly one of the most awesome moments I have ever seen on TV.
That and the Pegasus/Galactica standoff. Can anyone say tension?
I sure can. Aren’t I special?
Now I lost my train of thought, now I’m thinking where the term train of thought comes from, now I’m thinking about trains…