I’m Not Allowed To Use Candles Anymore!
I have a beautiful candle sitting on the bookshelf in the family room. It feels waxy to the touch, has a blackened wick, and even smells nice. But it ‘s battery operated. It’s also a constant reminder of the time I nearly burned our house down.
A fire wife.
I almost burned down our house. As a result of that event, my candle usage is strictly monitored. It’s a lovely story, really, and Johnny likes to repeat it anytime he want to embarrass me. Because apparently it’s really embarrassing to have two engines show up to your house after Brinks reports smoke in the house and you happen to be a firefighter. Especially when all the neighbors start telling the engineer that the guy who lives there is a firefighter, too.
I think it was about 2002. Johnny was still a paid call and working full-time as a supervisor for the local whambulance/taxi ride to the ER to refill your RX company. (It’s true! They really do that!) It was Christmas time, and I had left work early to do some shopping when Johnny called me on my cell.
“Did you forget to do something before you left for work?” he asked.
I hate it when he plays those little guessing games.
“I don’t think so, why?”
“Like maybe blowing out the candle in the bathroom?”
Thank the Gods for Brinks and their 24 hour monitored heat and smoke detectors. And thank the Gods again that there were no combustible materials near the candle, too! It was one of those cheap two-wicked jar candles, and when the wicks got too long they started to smoke. Really bad. Brinks detected it, and when I didn’t answer the phone when they called the house they called the fire department, who broke into my house, blew out my candle, opened the windows to air the house out, and then called Johnny to get the code to turn off the blaring alarm.
While the neighbors watched.
And that, my dear friends, is why I’m not allowed to use candles anymore.
It’s also why I had to bake about 500 dozen cookies for the fire department. Apparently they tease fellow firefighters horribly when their wives nearly burn down their house.
I’m not allowed to use my electric knife anymore, either, but that’s a story for another post.