In Which I Wax Nostalgic about Fire Safety Regulations

I am currently in training, and it is quite frustrating for many reasons ranging from the typical bureaucratic tripe to the going home to a host family who is frustrated by my inability to communicate without significant lag time between thought process and sentence construction.  In the meantime, I am convinced that I am going to die due to lax safety practices.  Last night my hostmama refilled the oil in my kerosene lantern--while the lantern was lit.  This morning, as I do three times a week, I went to my computer lab, in which power cables are daisy-chained across the floor and plugged into power strips that sometimes make sizzling sounds.  Children mop this floor.  With water, which they slop up against the outlets.  The lab itself is protected by a giant steel door held on to hinges with itty bitty rusting off spot-welds.  If I survive the impending electrical fire, I will be crushed by the falling door on the way to safety. 

 

Further bulletins as time and apathy allow.