An ancient flame claims to have "settled" in your fireplace. Really, the small blaze is badly stuck and can't move from your cabin. Old master Lucifer and other fiery monthlies have not noticed its absence, so whether November admits its predicament, you house it now. "Nay, this little ash serves me," it puffs, correcting. What a disproportionate ego and weird power dynamic. May Christmas be lovely nonetheless! For some reason it has particular fondness for whiskey and fine dining as any chef.