I feel like I’m living in a cigarette-friendly hotel. Stinky smelly stinky.

I’ve washed about eighteen thousand loads of laundry so far. Sheets! And more sheets! And towels! And pillows! And more towels! And all the clothes we took with us! And half the clothes we didn’t! And diapers! And I’m starting to wonder who the frick invented textiles and why they couldn’t have just left well enough alone. What was so bad about being cold and without fabric? Get a sheep, is all I’m saying.

And in actual news: the air hasn’t cleared enough that we can go outside or open the windows, but the brown haze seems to be turning gray in some areas. I think that’s a good sign.