Now all I need are some marshmallows

[cosmolinguist]

I opened the mostly-closed bedroom door to get some water from the fridge, and upon stepping into our living room/kitchen, I decided that the experience was like being near a campfire.

It was pleasantly cool, like a spring or fall night, because the window was open a crack. There was the familiar smell of something charred or burned, not quite as nice as that at a campfire, but servicable.

My roommate's boyfriend did something involving bread and a microwave that, luckily, did not set off the smoke alarm (if one goes off in the apartments, all people in all apartments have to go outside, and it's very chilly tonight), though it did bring the campus police to our door, asking if everything was okay.

That is, of course, why the window was open. And since I'd been in my room, slaving away over Old English translation, for a couple of hours, the smell had had time to dissipate and the room had time to ventilate ... reaching the quasi-campfire state I noticed when I wanted some water. It's sort of funny, and sort of disconcerting, to have a couple of your senses tell you that your home is actually quite like a campfire.

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