Intrepid Murmurings

Thar She Blows
Holy crap, my husband (who has recently taken up building electronics, playing with car-startable batteries, circuitboards, heating wire and soldering in his spare time) just blew up the house. I heard a telltale crack and a pop, which can only be one thing. Electronics blowing up. And there, in our old guest bedroom turned workshop, is a huge cloud of smoke. Oy Vey.
Mind you, this was only minutes after I walk in and my heat gun (for encaustics) is sitting on the wood floor, RUNNING, while he works on something else. Oh, is that on? he says casually. His music was up to high for him to hear it.
Why me? Could he not take up knitting, or something? Its hip, isn't it?
He is fine, FYI. And back at it.
I am looking for a fan.