WOULDN'T IT BE AMAZING TO HAVE A FIREPLACE IN YOUR BEDROOM?
And then I revise that thought:
Nayyy, A FIREPLACE IN THE BATHROOM. 'TWOULD SURPASS THE AFOREMENTIONED LEVEL OF AMAZINGNESS.
|SWANKY AS ****.|
Mmmm. Fire. Makes me daydream in caps lock.
It started in middle school, when both my unsuspecting parents had to work in the evenings. I'd grab my hidden stash of matches, make a beeline for the bathroom, and select the products with the most dire-sounding warning labels.
Then I'd spray/pour them onto the concrete patio outside and let them duke it out for the Most Impressibly Flammable Award.*
My college roomates didn't know this when they invited me to live with them sophomore year... in a house heated by nothing other than a wood stove.
One freezing, dark winter night in my beloved college home, I took it upon myself to heat the house very thoroughly before my roommates & I went to bed. I built a fire that would put a pyromaniac Boy Scout counselor to shame-- the black metal chimney above the fire took on a faint orange glow.
|YAY for college students and their impulse to photographically document every moment of life (...says a blogger)|
Soon everyone had changed into boxers and tank tops, and we'd plastered ourselves against the wall furthest from the blaze.
I checked the thermometer in the next room over. IT READ 98°F. IN THE NEXT ROOM OVER. It was a proud, proud moment.
And then... we looked out the window. Everything was blanketed in an unexpected coating of snow. We ran outside in our sweaty pajamas, stuffed the fresh white powder into glasses, then went back inside & added juice & colorful straws. I will never eat a better snow cone in my life.
Sometimes it pays to be a pyro.
(Sorry about the burn marks on the patio, Mama & Papa Bear.)
*(Aerosol foam shoe cleaner won, hands down. The coolest part is that it floats on water, so you can spray it into a water fountain, light it, and watch the floating flames go down the little waterfalls. Highlight of my 13-year old life.)