Andy claims I have a propensity for trying to burn the house down. He’s being overly dramatic, but I do tend to have some sort of flammable mishap every year or so. This season I got the holiday fire over with rather early on, just as I began wrapping the presents.
Setting the scene with a delicious candle of frasier fir, I conjured a cozy day after Thanksgiving, getting a headstart on the gift-giving. I started by clearing off the dining room table. No sooner had that been done that it quickly became populated with wrapping and presents, and I took a moment to make a peppermint mocha decaf coffee. Topping it off with some whipped cream – tis the season for such indulgences – I sat down and began stuffing a scarf into a bag. I grabbed some pink tissue paper and pushed it to the side as I refolded the scarf. Instantly, the pink tissue found the candle flame and went up like a piece of flash paper. Moving swiftly, I grabbed the part that hadn’t yet burned up and brought it quickly but relatively calmly to the kitchen sink, where Andy had already rushed in upon seeing the flames.
A quick dousing of water took care of the remaining burning bits, though a bunch of smoke lingered as Andy turned the kitchen vents on and opened the front window.
All in a holiday wrapping party of one.
As Barbara Walters once said, “This is 2020.”
