It's strange--it only happened on Friday, but I'm almost over the fire already. I'm still a bit miffed about losing the fish, but otherwise, I'm cool. A house is just a temporary place to keep your stuff, and stuff is temporary. I didn't need much more than I've got here--food, a couple changes of clothes, some tunes, and my backpack. It's cool. The animals are okay, Dad and Karen are okay, and I'm more or less unharmed (aside from having a few major freakouts right afterward and tomorrow we're going to the doctor's to make sure I didn't inhale too much smoke).

The things that are the greatest, I've taken away unharmed. And that's all that's needed or really, really wanted. I've moved on.

Though I am a little bit miffed that I won't be able to live in my home of ten years until perhaps Christmas. That's a bit of a drag, but what can you do, really? It's just a sentimental pile of siding and stuffing and nails. It's not really that important. So for now, since Dad and Karen aren't all up with it, I'll stay out of their way. I won't ask for Christmas presents and I suppose I'll have to just give up on seeing the Who this year. (That's what the Internet is for, I suppose.) It's more important that that $250 that would have been spent on seeing Pete n' Roger goes toward rebuilding our kitchen and cleaning up the house.

Rather miffed at THAT, too... I really wanted to see them. But what can you do? I don't want to stress Dad out again with that. I give up. I'll go do new things, and I suppose I'll listen to my Who CDs as loud as I can on those days that I could have gone.

It's a rather petty thing, though. MOVING ON, like I said.