We Didn’t Start the Fire…

Well someone sure did! For the past week, some farmers near my apartment have been burning their land. I don’t know if this was on purpose (I know that every so many years it’s good for the earth if you burn it so it can renew itself) or was an accident. But this is what I do know:

1. Smoke has permeated into my skin and I smell like I’m one long, continuous camping trip. I know I do not like camping. And I know I do not like this.

2. Smoke has clung to my upholstery in my car and now it smells like a smoker’s car. I know I do not like this.

3. I catch whiffs of smoke inside my room and I’m constantly walking out into the hallway and living area to make sure my roommate did not leave a candle or her curling iron plugged in…again. I know I do not like the smell. And I know I do not like it when she does that.

4. I know I like walking outside at the park near my house. I know that I do not like walking while my lungs are being subtly coated by a layer of black dust that that will build up to be thick, black, oozy tar.

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