Thirtysomething

Further Proof That I'm an Idiot

I think everyone wonders at some point, what kind of person they really are, what they're made of. Like in life or death situations, what would I do? What type of person am I? At work, I've dealt with emergencies several times. I think I've dealt well. I think I falter for the first minute of so, but once I realize what's happening, I take charge and get things done.

As it turns out, I'm a spazz.

I was making that chipotle chicken tortilla soup I was telling you about--I put oil in a saucepan on a low flame, or what I thought was a low flame, and proceeded to finish chopping the chicken. I was silently fuming because of Wachovia. That's right, the bank. Ron and I finally opened a joint account a couple of weeks ago and for some reason, Wachovia also decided to open credit cards for us. Not check cards--we already received our check cards. These were credit cards. Thank you, no, I don't want or need another credit card. Who the hell told you I wanted another credit card? I'm pretty sure I didn't. I called to close the account, but I was still pissed at Wachovia as I was chopping my chicken. And more time passed than I probably realized. And then I smelled something funny. Like...something burning.

So I spin around and the saucepan is on fire. I'm not saying it's smoking, I'm talking full-on fire.
I totally and completely panic.

Well, that's not actually true. A million thoughts run through my head within a millisecond. Like, "I don't know where the fire extinquisher is" and "I don't know where the lid to this pan is". I know those are the things I need. It even occurs to me that the fire will burn itself out when the oil is burned up. Yet for some reason I take the pan, throw it in the sink and turn on the faucet.

WHOOSH!

Yeah, really I do know that you don't put water on a grease fire, but for some reason that didn't matter at that moment. Frantic that the now 3 foot flames that were shooting near the ceiling were going to catch to the cabinets or walls, I grab the pan again and start screaming for Ron. All I could think of, all that was running through my head, was that if the flames caught to anything else, that was it, we weren't going to be able to contain this fire. So I decide to put the pan at the furthest point from everything else in the room.

Are you ready for it? It gets better.

I put the flaming pan on the linoleum floor. Smack dab in the middle. Right about the same time, Ron gets to the kitchen and I for some reason decide to leave the kitchen. In hindsight, I must have realized the flames were out because Ron says they were by the time I got there and I was waving a towel in front of the smoke detector. Because GOD FORBID the smoke detector went off. That's definitely the worst that could happen. Come to think of it, that smoke detector must need batteries because there was a lot of smoke. I have no idea how the flames were extinquished. Maybe the oil burned off. Maybe by grace of God, because I imagined He looked down on me and thought "Well I could kill her in a house fire, but that's just too damn easy."

For those that don't know, fire melts linoleum. So, while I am thankful to still have a home and I didn't burn my face off, I also currently hear the sound of my security deposit being forfeited.

posted by DJ Heavy D @ 7:23 PM