I’ve finished fixing stuff that wasn’t working (the stuff I could see, at least). If you find anything else that’s broken, let me know and I’ll pretend to care. Actually, I’ll probably try to fix it as soon as possible because I’m a bit anal like that.

When M and I got home today from our travels into the world outside the safe coccoon of our house, he noticed that there was smoke on the plains. Later on the news, he learned that the smoke was a fire at the Wingfield dump (yes, that teensy puff of smoke in the centre of the picture represents a fire - the sun was in a really bad spot). I’m feeling quite fortunate that I don’t live around there - living next to a dump would be bad enough, but a burning dump would be just too much.