Suddenly, all the plans I made “Before” and all the things I was going to do sound much more important than they did, back then. I was mumbling about going on a long hike, or at least, a couple of weeks to go watch the baby animals being born. And then… we hunkered down.

Well, I brought home a fuel canister and hooked it up to the world’s tiniest backpacking stove. I’ve been meaning to do it for a while, but things keep pushing back the schedule. And it’s not like there’s anywhere to go right now, anyway.

Now, I know I can’t cook worth a darn. Most of my secret family recipes involve a phone number and delivery service.

But I can boil water with the best of ’em…

Assuming that the best of ’em are boiling 750 mL or less, that is.

I made coffee.

(You were expecting me to say that I roasted the world’s tiniest marshmallows, weren’t you?)

The stove works. It was the right kind of fuel. I may have bought **ahem** kind of a lot of fuel, but it’s going to be a long, boring winter, and we’re going to be trapped inside for a long time.

I didn’t blow myself up. Nothing melted. (Which apparently is one of the weaknesses of the stove, or some iterations of it.) No one died.

And the coffee was actually pretty good.

I’ll just keep on planning, for now.