...i set my shirt and a pair of underwear on fire.
Yeah, it's about me, and it's an interesting opening sentence. booyah.
preface: we are sleeping in my grandfather's house. at one point in history, he got so mad at the power company for charging him large amounts of money on his bill, he ripped the gas lines out of the ground around his house. hence, no heating. instead, he pays out the ass in electric bills for using about 23 electric furnaces around the house. and leaves the stove on all night for more spatial heating. and i have to sleep there. all week long. on a couch. in sweats. under four blankets. tis the season for cranky-ass mornings.
actually the story:
not sure what compelled me, but i thought, "hm, there's a full-powered burner going right there. i bet that would make my undergarments all nice and toasty, considering how well it's heating this three-foot space in the kitchen." nope, turns out that touching those things to a red hot oven-top only sets your shit aflame.
to be fair, there was not actually an open flame. the burner was one of those wire-coil-ey type ones. still admittedly a dumbass moment.
liar liar,
-kevsonfire
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I live in an old rowhouse with cast iron radiators. They are awesome because a) we don't pay for the hot water, so heating costs us nothing, and b) the heat is not as oppressive as that of a forced-air system.
That being said, it finally got really cold here, and they are making scary sounds and I don't know how they work. At all. I've been told I have nothing to worry about unless they start spewing boiling water all over the floor. That's right. Nothing to worry about EXCEPT for rushing, scalding water. Yep.
Post a Comment