I just almost set myself on fire.

I was in the kitchen, heating up some water for coffee. Got the kettle on the stove. My cup on the counter. Grinder ready for beans.

It’s a little chilly inside, so I’ve got a scarf on. A pretty Persian looking scarf my sister bought for me a birthday ago.

So I’m reaching for the beans over the stove, humming to the tune of a self-made happy ditty, when suddenly I hear something vaguely resembling the sound of wind rushing over sand dunes. Or the napkins I used to set on fire in my parents’ back yard just to see how quickly they’d get reduced to ash.

In a flash, my scarf is OFF, and I’m stamping that mf’er out on the tile floor. There were FLAMES coming off the tail-end. Somehow, I managed to unwind it from around my neck without catching my hair on fire.

All in the matter of about a second and a half. Glad to know I’ve good reflexes.

And that was my excitement for the evening. Never wear a scarf (or long hair or clothing) around a gas stove. Thankfully, though a little black around the fringe, the scarf will also survive.

Now back to work. This short story I’m working on is busting my ass, so I gotta bust its ass in return.

Currently reading “Dealing With Dragons” by Patricia C. Wrede and “Fight Club” by Chuck Palahniuk. How’s that for a mix?