the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire.
we are fortunate enough to have a working fireplace in our victorian apartment.
as we became tenants in may, we have not had occasion to use said fireplace yet, and instead just gaze at it, dreaming of snowy days when we can light the fire and make smores in our own house.
this daydream, of snow, is particularly nice in the ovenlike june we’ve been having.
some days, like today, the wind picks up and blows in a specific way in our fireplace that wafts a fire smell throughout the apartment.
and on days, like today, when it is about 90 million degrees outside at 11am, it smells like the entire day is ON FIRE.
[which, for cool-temperature-lovers — not cold, cool — like myself, might as well be true.]