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The hills are alive with the sound of BURNING
Ah, nothing like a power outage to brighten (?) your day.
I was in the shower at the time. The light switch is inside, and the doors firmly locked and closed, so it took me a moment to orient myself. I paused, contemplating the still-running, still-warm water, wondering if maybe the light and fan had just decided to die, even though it then proceeded to try to flicker back to half-strength. I carefully wrapped a towel around myself and peeked into my room - yep, the computer was dead. Full power outage.
I shrugged, and went back to the shower to finish. Whatever backup power was sustaining the light at that half-power finally gave out and plunged me into blackness, but I didn't really care. I don't really need to see to wash myself, after all. It's really quite a refreshing experience, letting your eyes shut down for a while, just listening to the rush of water, feeling the warmth flow over your back and shoulders, or over your chest, or through your hair.
The power came back soon enough, though, so I could actually find my towel and my clothes. It seems to want to be back for good. I blame either the heat, or sun storms. I definitely blame the heat for the forest fire. The sunlight that manages to filter through the smoky sky falls dull and orange on the cinderblock dorms, and white ash drifts lazily out of the sky in a malicious parody of snow. This happened last year, too; then, my memory of the Hayman fire was still fresh and raw, and I didn't handle it so well. Now it's only vaguely sickening instead of debilitating. As we drove Dennys-ward last night, we caught glimpses of orange glow on the mountains, when we could see through the buildings. I wish I'd not been driving and could have gotten a better look.
In other news: The actor playing Jesus in Mel Gibson's latestsermon movie was struck by lightning.
click
I was in the shower at the time. The light switch is inside, and the doors firmly locked and closed, so it took me a moment to orient myself. I paused, contemplating the still-running, still-warm water, wondering if maybe the light and fan had just decided to die, even though it then proceeded to try to flicker back to half-strength. I carefully wrapped a towel around myself and peeked into my room - yep, the computer was dead. Full power outage.
I shrugged, and went back to the shower to finish. Whatever backup power was sustaining the light at that half-power finally gave out and plunged me into blackness, but I didn't really care. I don't really need to see to wash myself, after all. It's really quite a refreshing experience, letting your eyes shut down for a while, just listening to the rush of water, feeling the warmth flow over your back and shoulders, or over your chest, or through your hair.
The power came back soon enough, though, so I could actually find my towel and my clothes. It seems to want to be back for good. I blame either the heat, or sun storms. I definitely blame the heat for the forest fire. The sunlight that manages to filter through the smoky sky falls dull and orange on the cinderblock dorms, and white ash drifts lazily out of the sky in a malicious parody of snow. This happened last year, too; then, my memory of the Hayman fire was still fresh and raw, and I didn't handle it so well. Now it's only vaguely sickening instead of debilitating. As we drove Dennys-ward last night, we caught glimpses of orange glow on the mountains, when we could see through the buildings. I wish I'd not been driving and could have gotten a better look.
In other news: The actor playing Jesus in Mel Gibson's latest
click
I can't breathe!
I find this "ash falling from the sky" thing vaguely post-apocalyptic.
no subject
That is the most ironic situation I've ever heard of.