The alarm clock rang. It was 2:30. I was so very comfortable. It took my brain a while to register why. Outside it was 29 degrees. Inside, by the orange glow of the heater and the twinkling light from the christmas tree in the corner i could see one sockless foot sticking out of the covers. Sili was spread out on top of the blankets instead of curled in a ball beside me. Cashew was lying on her back with her legs pointed up towards the ceiling in her crate. All signs led to one grand realization. It was warm. I had turned on the heater when it was still in the high 50s the night before. That meant that the wall unit and space heater had gotten a jump start on the dropping temperature and inside the tiny house it was now toasty warm. It was so rare that we achieved this delicate balance where the heater and wall unit warmed the air faster than the dryer vent hole in the wall pumped in more cold. I reset the alarm for 3:00 am and the three of us basked in the cozy warmth of the room for half an hour before getting up to face life once again. In that moment lying there in the dark it felt like we were enjoying some kind of posh luxury only rich people knew. When life threw you an occasional butterscotch pudding in the middle of all those lemons, it was important to stop making lemonade and enjoy the pudding before it began raining lemons once again.