Fanny Says I Need to Keep Warm

Shit. I didn’t mind the cold weather in Kentucky. Not one bit. I’d just put on my false eyelashes and get cleaned up. I had my car in a garage, so not one drop a rain hit me as I was stepping from my house to my car. I’d just get myself dressed and go shopping, and I didn’t mind the weather one bit.

Now, what you need to do when you wake up in the morning is set your oven about 400 degrees. Open the door and it will heat up your kitchen in no time. That’s what I used to do early in the morning when I was making my coffee. I’d make my coffee and crank that heat up and I’d sit in a straight-backed chair (I don’t know why I could always sit in a straight-backed chair. . . . People would ask me Fanny, how you do that? and I would say I don’t know, it’s just so comfortable for me), and so I’d open the oven door and prop my feet up on it and sit and read all morning. . . . I really did enjoy it, and sometimes I’d be there all day, just as toasty as can be.

Fuck those space heaters though—before you know it, you’ll burn your whole house down with one a those things. Your Uncle Butchie wants to know: Is it a kerosene heater? Well, it better not be. You’ll asphyxiate yourself with one of those. And make sure to keep it away from your bed too; you won’t be nothing but a pile a ashes and a puddle a grease by morning time. Promise me you keep it away from the bed now?

Well, I know I’m a runnin up your phone bill. I’ll talk to you later, baby. Grandma loves you too.