Write a four line poem about something that is: toxic.
This afternoon I finally installed the printer I got from my parents for Christmas. It's a colour one, which is exciting enough, but it also scans and copies (and faxes but we'd need a phone line in order to use that and we only have cell phones).
It'll be great to do our own colour printing, especially when it comes time to do up this year's box program posters for the farm. I've also wanted a scanner for a long time, and that function will likely eliminate most of our faxing needs as well.
The printer also does photos, but I want to look into cost and quality issues before getting too excited about that.
Fleeing from the wreckage,
Fumes slither toward the sky;
It's too late to stop them,
So we might as well just lie.