Monday, February 22, 2010

aromatherapy gone terribly wrong

This is a perfect story for "Not me Monday".  And it happened to me today.

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! 
This blog carnival was created by MckMama
You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

On to the story:
Our darling rental house that we have called home for about 6 months is on the market as a short sale.  The first two couples to come see it both put in offers.  We will see what happens, such a bummer; we really like living here and it's the cheapest rent in town.  Anyway, today we had some more visitors that wanted to check out the house.  I had an hour to get myself and the kids dressed and the house picked up a little.  I lit this essential oil burner in our bedroom (on our bookshelf!!) while running around getting everything ready.

Just before walking out the door to take the kids on a walk while strangers looked around my house, I decided to blow out the candle.

The burner was on fire.  ON FIRE!  I tried blowing it out and it got bigger.  I tried blowing it out again, harder this time.  It got bigger.

I screamed, "Acacia come here!  Now!  Come quickly!"  I have no idea why I did that.  What was my 3 year old going to do? 
She replied, "In a minute, I'm still eating my grilled cheese." Drat!  I had to handle this alone.

I grabbed two wet child's washcloths from the bathroom that were sitting on the tub from last night's bath and draped them over the burner.  The fire went out for a minute and when I took the washcloths off it came roaring back.  I freaked out and quickly envisioned the bookshelf going up in flames and the rest of the house catching on fire.  The smoke alarm goes off.  I started having heart palpitations.  Should I call 911?  Where is my cell phone?  I have to get this fire out NOW!  I grabbed the washcloths again and stuffed one inside the burner, where the candle had been.  The other I draped over the top and used that one to carry the whole burner to the bathroom sink where I turned the faucet on.  Fire out, palpitations still going strong.

Acacia comes strolling in, grilled cheese crumbs all over her face and says, "Okay, I'm all finished." Realtor pulls into the driveway.  I open all the windows in the house to air it out.  Greet realtor and evil strangers coming to take my house, and take the kids to the field to play.

Miraculously, nothing else caught on fire.  Not the books under the candle, not the books over the candle, not the books next to the candle, not the wooden bookshelf, not even the macaw feather headdress from our Amazon trip that was draping right next to the candle.  But seriously, maybe 2 more minutes and all that stuff would have gone up in flames.

All so that I could have the house smelling like lavender and bergamot... for strangers that might want to buy the house that I love living in. What's wrong with me?!

Not me... I would never feel the need to have aromatherapy for people that are going to potentially kick me out of my house.  And I would never light a candle on a bookshelf with books all around it.  And if I ever had an emergency, like... say a fire, I certainly wouldn't call my 3 year old for help.


chelsea hudson said...

you are the best... i love you shannon - your stories make me laugh out loud. but i DO have to say that as unfortunate as it is about you possibly having to move (and i really am sad about that cause i know how much you liked that house)... I just have to point out that MAYBE just MAYBE God is freeing y'all up to move to, say, uh, well, maybe PHOENIX? just a random, non-pre-meditated thought.

typos call me kaite said...

shannon, you are blogmama of the year. i have just twelve words for you: i like it i love it i want some more of it!

your tone reminds me of the grapes to raisins blog. the first and only, but certainly not the last posting...i hope!


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