Blog of the log and the Great House Migration 2005

Well, it happened again.

No, I'm not cracking up, it really did happen again. I got stuck behind yet another house two intersections away from the previous two last night.

As all three houses were traveling east to the edge of the city, I'm deeming this The Great House Migration of 2005. Perhaps the houses are collectively fleeing the cold, tired of having to shelter humans and not getting any appreciation. Kind of like all those birds who begin flying south for the winter and then a Chinook rolls in and they all come back, only to flee, squawking, the next day when the temperature drops again to -30.

Ever notice how there is always that one bird flying north? I used to think it was because he was an outcast, or got angry with the other birds in his flock.

Now I'm convinced it's because he forgot his wallet.

Tonight after work I sat on the couch staring at the television. After about 20 minutes of watching who knows what, I started channel surfing and found the best program.

It was a burning log on channel nine, like those DVDs one can buy if one wants to watch a fire but doesn't have the luxury of a fireplace.

I wondered what would happen when the logs died down - whether or not a hand would come out of nowhere and put another log on the fire, or if a poker stick would appear from the right and begin rearranging the wood. And so, for another 15 minutes, I sat watching the fire on TV, waiting.

I wanted to change the channel, but I couldn't stand the thought of missing it. One smaller log was burning at the front, outside the metal confines of the fireplace. Soon it would break off and the log would fall out and surely start a house fire. If only I waited long enough, it would happen.

After watching it for a while, I called Himself and told him to turn on channel nine. After trying to determine what kind of ads would show ("Coming up after the break, we add another log. You don't want to miss it!), Himself asked me, "Don't you have a real fireplace there?"

Indeed there is. Not three feet to the right of where the TV is.

I turned momentarily to see which Simpsons episode was on, and when I came back, there were new logs on the fire! Disappointment flooded my veins and, with a string of profanity, I gave up on the fire channel.

But more than likely, I'll tune in again tomorrow. I can't wait to find out what happens to the little log at the front, teetering perilously on the edge of the metal fence.