I should post a picture. I really should. But nobody, myself included, would want to see my house right now. Bry asked when he got home, "Ever, when did you learn to make bombs?" It does kind-of look like a mini-van exploded inside our house. With a cooler full of food and dishes.
But that's what I get for starting a 600+ page novel. I'm tired because I've been staying up late at night to read "just one more chapter" and the kids are tired of watching me read. Everything else was put on pause today so I could finally get to that last page. Which I did. Thank goodness. My 2012 rural Alaska life can resume and I will lay aside my 1740's Scottish highland existence until I've racked up enough sleep to warrant cracking open the next book in the series.
Phew. Sometimes it would just be easier if they'd make the movie already. ;)