While I do love the views and general atmosphere of the office we moved into, the room gets really bleeping cold. Cold enough that some days, such as today, my hands are halfway numb by the time I leave at the end of the day. So tonight when I got home, I grabbed a book, started our gas stove heating up the tea kettle and leaned up against the stove to read. My wife who was on the phone with one of the plumbers1 we’ve been talking to and moved me away from the stove because she thought I was standing too close.
Me being cold and a touch grouchy about being cold, told her I was doing it deliberately and told her to go back to her phone conversation. I was just finally starting to feel warm again when she came back into the kitchen. Then she asked the plumber to hold on a second because her husband was on fire.
Yes, she said on fire. Woohoo! I’m sexy…. Wait, that was panic in her voice… I reached behind myself to feel at my shirt2 and what do you know there was FIRE. Fortunately my wife grabbed the sprayer from the sink and hosed me down. I didn’t get hurt at all, if you exclude my pride3 and what feels like a sunburn on a single fingertip. Though the shirt I had been wearing was ruined.
The really sad part? It was only about two seconds before she sprayed me down that I was finally feeling warm. *sigh*
1 Yes the faucet our bleeping, downstairs bathtub is still broken.
2 I agree in hindsight that was stupid, but my brain was having trouble processing the information her voice imparted on my ears.
3 Which suffered greatly from the experience.