I am not unlike the fire I lit in the firepit today where I attempted to burn away the bank statements and fallen branches and dead leaves from last year and weeds that have no other place to be. I love fire. But the pit smoldered and sputtered and smoke pillared and billowed and infiltrated the neighbors' yards. Layers of material needing to disappear only suffocated under each other, stifled pathetic little flames and sent out white gray warning smoke signals for hours making the pile virtually impossible to get near.
Next time I will burn quick and high and hot.
I removed the hateful humming flourescent light from the kitchen. There was nothing technically wrong with the 50" x 18" box of dreadful dead light for the one room where the most time is spent. But when it's on you can hear the humming upstairs, sometimes and indicator of whether or not someone is home yet, or whether someone is watching TV in the dark or passed out, or whether you accidentally left it on when you finally crawled into bed. There is nothing to put in its place, but there is a lightness in knowing the hum will never be heard again for any reason.
Radiohead -- You, Nude, High & Dry, Videotape, 15 Step, All I Need