A home mostly cool with a slight constant breeze makes me uneasy.
The fire rages but my arms are weak to lug and haul anything substantial.
The trips are often and the pieces are misshapen, still they create warmth and for that I do not dare make a complaint.
Always I am surprised at how the wind seems to find it's way through the painstaking MacGyver'ed covering. The seals do not seem sealed.
I do hope my bones can rest by the firelight long enough to make the rest worth it all. Then again my choices are lacking. I think I'll have a coffee with my blanket.