The "Warm Fan"

The furnace in my childhood home made a very distinct noise right before it turned on, and from a young age I learned to love that sound. At that characteristic "Woaw-woaw-waah," my ears pricked up, and I would grab a blanket and run to the nearest register, cocooning myself so that its warmth would be trapped around me. Sometimes, on especially chilly winter mornings, my two younger siblings and I would sit by the kitchen register together, soaking up the heat until our cheeks were rosy red and we unzipped our little footy sleeper outfits in a desperate attempt to regulate our rising body temperatures. Being a verbose youngster (imagine that, right?), I decided that the machine creating all this delicious heat should be called the "warm fan." After all, that's pretty much what a furnace is. 

Later in life, when waking up in the morning meant getting ready for grade school, I would place my socks in front of the register before hopping in the shower so that they would be toasty by the time I put them on. There were mornings when I was so miserably cold and cranky that I put all of my clothes in front of the register, just so that I would have a reason to get dressed instead of crawl back under the covers. 

Even today, I must admit I'm attracted to heaters and registers. The wonderful family that I'm living with has already deemed the floor in front of their heater "Kate's spot" because I frequent it so often. After all, a decent space heater is a poor man's fireplace! Even a microwaved beanbag can suffice, especially when warming my feet at the end of my bed or easing the strain on tired shoulders after a long day of studying. 

But there's nothing I love better than sitting with a blanket and a good book by the "warm fan." And that little furnace noise? It's music to my ears.