Flaming Showerhead

I wrote this forever ago and came across it today....thought I'd share. :)

Monday, May 15, 2006

flaming shower head

I'm reliving a past experience this evening and I thought I'd share it with you. It really might have been one of my most shining moments in time...One of those moments that only I can truly appreciate the absurdity of...but I'm going to try to share it with you now.

I'm sitting here at my desk a while, playing on the computer, when a post-it note falls off the monitor and blows behind the desk (the fan's on high to air out this room due to my dog's stinky butt). Seeing as my house is already messy, I decide I'll retrieve the note and put it back where it goes, although now that I'm thinking of it, what is one tiny post-it note in this messy universe of mine?? Hmmph.

So, anyway, I reach over the desk (rather than walk to the side of it) and stick my hair into the burning flame of a candle on my desk. I immediately recognize that wretched smell for what it is, jerk back, beat myself about the pony tail, and all is well. No real harm done.

On a night roughly ten months ago, I had neither the presence of mind, mercy, nor grace that was bestowed upon me tonight. The story goes a little something like this....

The power was out. The dogs needed a bath. I had candles and matches. You see where this is going? The final ingredient in my recipe for disaster was boredom. It honestly never crossed my mind that I was about to scorch a sixth of my hair off. Not once.

I had the shower ledge lined with burning candles. They were all secure. None were going to fall off and burn the dog with hot wax, I had plenty of light to see what I was doing, what could possibly go wrong?? Like the saying goes, where there's a will, there's a way. In hindsight...well, you know.

Chance is such a good boy. He is so obedient, so trusting. He was so calm and well-behaved as I forced him into the tub and wet him down. I think the poor baby knew what his mommy was headed for and felt the utmost sympathy for my lack of intelligence. He is, after all, a border collie.

So, I'm lathering up the pooch. Talking to him all the while to reassure him things are just peachy. I run into trouble about five minutes into the bath. I can't reach his far left side from my position on the edge of the tub without extreme discomfort in the lower lumbar region, so I decide, what the heck, I'll just get in with him.

Well, I can't necessarily get into the tub with my jeans on, so I drop them, and step on in. I'm standing there behind him, washing his back, his left side and his tail and then it's time for his front left leg. I lean forward, and say, "Shake!". On command, he lifts his little foot for me to clean. I suddenly smell the oh-so-out-of-place smell of something burning and think, "FIRE!". I raise up and give my surroundings a quick, but thorough once over. All is well, nothing is on fire, the candles are all securely in place. "Odd," I think. Odd indeed.

So, back to work I go. It's time for the back left foot. "Stay," I say firmly and lift Chance's back foot to scrub. There it is again, that horrid smell of something burning, but what is it?? I raise up again, frustrated, only slightly concerned and my hair falls into my face. It's red. Not the red you would expect to see when you have red hair, but the red that's on the end of a cigarette. I scream. This is where and when pandamonium insues.

Chance bolts, terrified due to the alien noises coming from my mouth, and bolts, shampoo and all to his favorite spot in the house: my bed, I'm beating the bejesus out of my head, Tess is barking her head off, enjoying the excitement that's going on, my boyfriend is freaking out over all the commotion, I'm dunking my head in the water trying to save my flaming scalp only to end up falling into the dirty dog bath water, shirt and all.

I survived. Barely. No dignity intact.

In the end, I had to wash the comforter, the sheets, the walls, the floors, myself, the dogs and my soaking wet clothes.

I couldn't look Chance in the eye for a week. I could feel Tessie laughing at me behind those green eyes of hers. To beat it all, I looked like Carrot Top after a rough night of performing. My hair on the left side of my head had the same texture as a brillo pad, and you know the smell....God bless whoever invented the french twist.

Living la vida loca, baby.