Ever since I can remember, I’ve had a real problem with fire safety. When my family and I passed over the threshold of Yellowstone National Park in 1989, Smokey the Bear made the sign of a cross and kissed his rosary. Thank goodness – knock on wood – nothing has ever been catastrophic. There have been, however, a series of fire-related mis-adventures.
Take for example: April 2012. I came home from work one evening and placed a pot of cream of mushroom soup on the stove top. I lit the burner and stirred it a little. Then, I went to my bedroom and changed into gym clothes. Next, I packed my gym bag and walked straight out the front door.
I walked the four blocks to my neighborhood gym and called my mom on the way to say hi. I checked in with the lady at the front desk and complimented her bracelet. I put my gym bag in my locker and did up a ponytail. I passed through the cardio room and picked out a machine. I plugged in my headphones and selected a station. I started running.
This was when my mind started to wander. Hmm I thought What should I have for dinner when I get home? Oh I know! How about a nice bowl of that cream of mushroom soup that I made yesterday? Oh good idea! When I get home I’ll just put it on the stove to heat it up… wait a minute…
I leapt from the moving still-moving treadmill, ran through the gym, burst out of the glass doors, and sprinted back to my apartment. That burning soup was the closest thing to a geyser that I’ve seen since Old Faithful in 1989.