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.