There isn't much to do when we are housebound due to the weather.

Nothing to do except think.

There are those of us who thought about cleaning closets, basements and attics, rearranging shelves of canned goods, writing long overdue letters.

I did a little of all of those things as I looked out of my windows and made the decision to stay put, just as the meteorologists told me to.

Mostly I thought about my good fortune to have a house that was warm enough -- no frozen pipes (yet) -- and enough food, a frazzled but cozy bathrobe and lots of old movies to watch on television.

I had a cold. I didn't look good. But I felt fortunate.

When I worked full time I got to the office on bad weather days more than once, including walking from Downtown to Oakland when a snowstorm at rush hour delayed buses for hours.

So I rather reveled in the fact that I could now watch the snow fall and didn't have to pile on outerwear to face the elements. I was enjoying my seniority.

While counting my blessings, I also received my heating bill. I've lived in my house 28 years and never had a bill like this last one. My cable bill also went up again.

Teeth clenched, I dialed customer service to question both bills.

But as much as I would like to tell Comcast to take its cable and digital and stuff it, it knows we are hooked.

I think of the pleasure of the films I watched as the freezing rain produced dangerous conditions outside and my anger subsided.

Aren't I lucky, I think, to have a roof over my head and to have my electricity uninterrupted? Many outages were reported.

I'm back to good fortune.

I snuggle in a comfortable chair in a warm house and watch "Bridges of Madison County" and "An American in Paris" one more time.

Then comes another thought : I'll roast a chicken tonight. The aroma of a roasting chicken can always dispel gloom. And I savor that yummy chicken with noodles. I'm so lucky I think, as I slurp.

With television a constant on such snow days, we see more and learn more about Iraq, the deaths, the disgrace, the unending violence.

I feel helpless. It's too painful. The remote allows me to move from sad and uncomfortable to bliss ... just press a button and there's a very young Paul Newman in yet another flick. Escape.

But my thoughts are interrupted with chills and fury when I hear of the fire that killed six children and a young mother.

Space heaters were being used because their gas had been shut off a year ago. There have been other fires and losses and bravery from firefighters and strangers who have tried to help others in this frigid winter.

But six children?

I'm thinking, if all of us had contributed that extra $1 asked for in our bills to help others, would it have helped this family? Yes, my bill is high, but I'm warm. It's only money. But my anger is back.

Something isn't right. Something isn't balanced that allows me my comforts, and yet children must huddle around a wood fire or space heaters to stay warm.

Facing the real world and its tragedies often makes me want to lock the door and throw away the key, abandon the outside for the inside, where we think it is safe. I was safe and comfortable in my house.

These are the thoughts I've had as the snow flies and life goes on -- some of it sad, some of it happy. What have you been thinking?