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Life is just a Monty Python Script. And then your house catches fire.
November 22, 2004 | Category: Mother to the First Power
Bear began the night much better. A tepid bath, clean teeth, fresh sheets, fresh jammies, and hovering at a relatively cool 101.5F. I read him about 8 books, he drifted off to sleep (snoring, head high on pillows, humidifier going full blast) about 9:30PM.
I decided to stay awake until 11PM - the next dosage point - to see how his fever was.
Then CD and I got on the phone.
I think we both had the best of intentions. But ....
I was dizzy, and overtired, and on the phone with a guy who was telling me that I am to blame for everything that is wrong with him. Especially to blame for being angry. That he is justified in avoiding me, and by extension Bear, unless I get over everything and make him feel welcome.
And then the smoke alarm went off in the front of the house.
A candle on the fireplace mantle had gutted, leaving the label on the bottom burning like napalm. It caught the picture over the fireplace, and then dripped down to catch the wood and paper in the tin basket on the hearth. My living room was on fire.
I grabbed a wire mesh waste basket and dumped the eerily burning candlestick into it and ran it outside. Then I raced back in and dumped the entire contents of the firewood basket into the fireplace and open the flue. Then I put out the picture frame, soaking it in water to avoid it restarting.
Breathing hard and looking for something I missed - I realized that I hurt. Because I had burned my hand. Because I am JUST that dumb.
Windows and doors open to vent the place, Bear cocooned in his room, a bag of peas on my throbbing hand, and the phone - there where I'd dropped it - with my angry, angry husband on the other end.
And then it occured to me, with absolute horror chilling my bones, that I have become... a movie of the week.