Roaring Fires

A few nights ago, Terry and I were sitting on the couch waiting for some friends to stop by, and I said "wouldn't it be nice to have a roaring fire right there?"

Terry laughed and said, "No, we'd be running around screaming 'put it out! Put it out!'"

No romance, man.

But prophecy? Maybe!

Tonight I decided I wanted a fried egg to eat with my quinoa, so I put the pan on the electric stove with some olive oil and immediately forgot what I was doing. I went into the other room to check e-mail, and after awhile I smelled something weird. I went back into the kitchen and the pan was in flames! I literally ran around in circles yelling "I don't know what to do! I don't know what to do!" Silly me - I realized I do know what to do: cover the pan to smother the flame. It has no lid, so I used another pan that was sitting there. But the whole apartment filled with smoke.

The fire alarm went off about the same time that my landlady came running downstairs to see where the smoke was coming from. Fortunately by that time everything was under control.

So evidently my nose is (at least temporarily) more sensitive than the smoke detector... luckily this balances out the forgetfulness!

When Terry came home he just laughed: "Didn't I tell you that if we had a roaring fire in the room it wouldn't be romantic?"