Last night, Jeff built a fire that didn't take. Tonight I went downstairs to scan some photos about my Updo Epiphany, and when I came back up, the house was warm and toasty as a fire roared in the woodstove. I thought, "Oh, how nice of Jeff to start a fire."
I thanked him for doing so. It took him a full five minutes to convince me he wasn't pulling my leg when he swore he didn't start it. After I had thorougly examined his face for any sign of that tweaky cheek muscle he gets when he's kidding, I said, bewildered, "I didn't touch the stove."
Jeff said, "I opened the stove door for ten seconds to see if the fire I built last night was still there, and it was. Then I closed the door and walked away."
Apparently, the damp wood of yesterday had been very quietly smoldering all day long, just waiting for enough oxygen to flame to life.
So...our fire started itself...