The tea maker started making a strange, death rattle and there is a smell of burnt plastic in the air. I quickly shut it off, but now I’m afraid to turn it back on. The tea maker should not smell of anything besides glorious tea.
Of extra concern is that it looks like I will not be able to find a replacement for it locally and that the plug-in kettle I had may not have survived the move.
I will have to make an offering to any and all tea gods that there may be, though I may have fallen out of favor for using such a blasphemous device in the first place.
Today is my-Sunday, and I think, and while there may be possible plans for today, it’s going to be a writing day. Or at least, it should be. Now that the repair work on the shower is over, I really should spend an hour or so continuing to unpack whatever I can and organizing whatever remains that I don’t have room for. I also need to go through the filing cabinet.
Which, frankly, is the boring “adult” answer.
Watching the documentary for Spaced. Realizing I need a “Tim” to my “Daisy”. Pillocks need not apply. 😉
Hmm. This post has the potential for moodiness and introspection. Which is better left to my own diary. And which is why I won’t link it on my Twitter feed.
So, will be a mixed bag. Some cleaning and organizing, some writing.