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anonymousblack) wrote2011-12-14 04:54 pm
anonymousblack) wrote2011-12-14 04:54 pm
Entry tags:
haz mat wednesday
getting ready for my shower later than i would've liked this morning i picked up the blue men's 2X long flannel i use as a robe and, as i did so, knocked over the vaguely meth-lab style oil lamp perched admittedly way too close to the edge of our dresser/entertainment center. i picked up the lamp just this sunday at the antique mall, and, yes, if you're wondering, i'd since cleaned it up and filled with extremely toxic, extremely flammable candle oil.
the lamp did not break but instead rolled in a half-circle across the floor in the foot and a half between our bed/couch and dresser/entertainment center, spewing five ounces of extremely toxic, extremely flammable candle oil all over the floorboards as it went. it stopped several inches under the bed/couch. see, this is particularly problematic because at the base of our dresser/entertainment center would be the pile of clothing, notebooks (including paper journal and primary horse-stunning brainstorming notebook i've been working on since 2004) and assorted personal tinder i pile up at the base of our dresser/entertainment center. this is because i have no housekeeping skills, must have missed that semester at school.
you can imagine my chagrin at the prospect of my notebooks (including paper journal and primary horse-stunning brainstorming notebook i've been working on since 2004) and favorite clothing getting soaked in extremely toxic, extremely flammable candle oil. somehow, thank the gods, my little lamp turned oil bomb trajected itself over my personal effects and kept the majority of its puddle just on the naked floor. a stray bra, sort of in a "how'd that get there" placement, got some oil in the process, and spillage eventually seeped to one of the boxes i keep under the bed/couch.
did i mention this was right in front of the radiator, and that the radiator was in the midst of a heat cycle? it would appear not. so! i will mention: this was right in front of the radiator, and the radiator was in the midst of a heat cycle.
i was dressed for my shower, meaning i was not dressed. i yelped and snatched up the bottle, searched fruitlessly for the oil saturated wick and metal housing that isn't really fixed inside the lamp but mostly just set in the bottle's mouth and has the sort of patina that isn't quite so lovely and wabi-sabi as it is questionable and meth-lab. then began the forty-five minute process of trying to remove roughly five ounces of extremely toxic, extremely flammable candle oil from our bedroom/living room/dining room/only room floor. this involved an embarrassing amount of paper towels, doc bronner's soap, and, eventually, windex. through our mutual efforts, the floorboards have been returned to conventional bachelor pad standards for toxic flammability, or, at least, i hope they have.
my only consolations on this ridiculous mess of a wednesday are a) notebooks were okay, b) (thank the gods) this wasn't a carpet, and c) i found it incredibly amusing to contemplate, whilst naked, swearing, frantically sloshing and wiping, the community of internet fetishists who'd pay thousands of dollars to watch this exact scenario unfold.
*
now i'm going to guzzle passion flower tea and sulk about christmas.
the lamp did not break but instead rolled in a half-circle across the floor in the foot and a half between our bed/couch and dresser/entertainment center, spewing five ounces of extremely toxic, extremely flammable candle oil all over the floorboards as it went. it stopped several inches under the bed/couch. see, this is particularly problematic because at the base of our dresser/entertainment center would be the pile of clothing, notebooks (including paper journal and primary horse-stunning brainstorming notebook i've been working on since 2004) and assorted personal tinder i pile up at the base of our dresser/entertainment center. this is because i have no housekeeping skills, must have missed that semester at school.
you can imagine my chagrin at the prospect of my notebooks (including paper journal and primary horse-stunning brainstorming notebook i've been working on since 2004) and favorite clothing getting soaked in extremely toxic, extremely flammable candle oil. somehow, thank the gods, my little lamp turned oil bomb trajected itself over my personal effects and kept the majority of its puddle just on the naked floor. a stray bra, sort of in a "how'd that get there" placement, got some oil in the process, and spillage eventually seeped to one of the boxes i keep under the bed/couch.
did i mention this was right in front of the radiator, and that the radiator was in the midst of a heat cycle? it would appear not. so! i will mention: this was right in front of the radiator, and the radiator was in the midst of a heat cycle.
i was dressed for my shower, meaning i was not dressed. i yelped and snatched up the bottle, searched fruitlessly for the oil saturated wick and metal housing that isn't really fixed inside the lamp but mostly just set in the bottle's mouth and has the sort of patina that isn't quite so lovely and wabi-sabi as it is questionable and meth-lab. then began the forty-five minute process of trying to remove roughly five ounces of extremely toxic, extremely flammable candle oil from our bedroom/living room/dining room/only room floor. this involved an embarrassing amount of paper towels, doc bronner's soap, and, eventually, windex. through our mutual efforts, the floorboards have been returned to conventional bachelor pad standards for toxic flammability, or, at least, i hope they have.
my only consolations on this ridiculous mess of a wednesday are a) notebooks were okay, b) (thank the gods) this wasn't a carpet, and c) i found it incredibly amusing to contemplate, whilst naked, swearing, frantically sloshing and wiping, the community of internet fetishists who'd pay thousands of dollars to watch this exact scenario unfold.
*
now i'm going to guzzle passion flower tea and sulk about christmas.