Smell the Burning Flesh...er I mean Rice.

Last night while trying to fill out forms and cook rice, I managed to burn up one of my stainless steel glass-top pans. I simply forgot to turn the burner down once the rice water started to boil. Pretty soon the black smoke was rolling and I had an awful mess of blue smoke rolling through my apartment. I'm suprised my smoke detector didn't go mad, it usually does with less smoke than this.

It rather makes the issue of the stinky sofa a moot point. Now my entire apartment smells like the aftermath of a bombed out rice patty in 'Nam. Napalm and charred flesh.

I had to cover the sofa just so I would consent to sit and loll on it. I just had this vision of rubbing tar and nicotine into my skin every time I moved. Hopefully this doesn't look too tacky:

Before I covered the sofa, Mackie wouldn't sit on it. He kept sniffing around and then moving to another spot and sniffing some more. I guess he felt like I did about napping in the bottom of a wet ashtray. Now he loves it: more places to nap! Here he is deciding which of his toys to play with.