Oh sweet furnace, why hast thou forsaken me? What have I done that causest thou to falter? Thou pilot light burnest not brightly. In fact it burnest not at all. Thy capricious nature causest me dismay. Even when thy light burnest for 10 minutes, burning brightly, thou button is released and thy fire goes off. Grief is mine, O furnace. Grief and my overwhelming desire to cause thee harm. Preferably with a sledge hammer. But thy transgressions are nothing compared with thy brother in the front room. Thy brother vexes me so. He makes to light, remains on, waits for the moment and then "click". The suspense is palpable. Thy recalcitrant nature displeases me. Thy perplexing spirit angers me. Lo, the weather outside is frightful, and a fire would be so delightful. Grant me your favor before my head explodes.