I have made it sound as if something dreadful happened; it didn’t. At one point I placed a plastic chair fairly close to the fire and sat there and then began to think, “Hmm, I’m hot and is the side of this chair starting to melt?”
I started to write about the weather. Blast! I’m boring.
I could say a few words about politics, but it is so surreal.
Somewhere in the middle is a story and maybe today I will find it.