Arid II

[rejectomorph]

The cold, dry air crinkles the dead leaves that now crunch underfoot when I walk through the yard. Nobody will sneak up on the house. I'd hear their footsteps long before they reached it. No need for any fancy electric alarm system. Not that we've ever had a burglar here, but in case we get the first one ever, he's doomed.

If only I could have rigged an alarm to go off when the spaghetti sauce I was making tonight burned. Now I have a pan to scour. Dumb.