Which was, probably, a silly thing to do.
It was my favourite house jacket, the one I like to zip up and sleep with over my two or three layers of shirts in ‘sunny’ Scotland.
It all started, ladies and gentlemen, when I wanted to grill some sausages for breakfast. But because the kitchen was warm and I didn’t like the sleeves obstructing my hands, I took off my jacket…and for some reason tossed it on top of the stove. Maybe I was still suffering from sleep-dep, I don’t know.
Now, see, naturally I thought the hob was switched off when I cheerfully ripped open the plastic bag and shoved frozen sausages into the oven. But I still shouldn’t have put my jacket there in the first place!
I closed the oven door, only seconds later to detect this horrible smell. Thinking a bit of plastic had somehow been left in the oven, I opened it, checked the ice-caked sausages, but no, it looked okay. Back in they went, and that horrid smell returned. I checked a second time.
That’s when I noticed smoke emitting from my jacket.
Ahk! Ahk! No! Bad fire!
I rescued my jacket – it hadn’t burst into flames. It was still usable and one side was slightly burnt. The zipper had gone all twisted. I will definitely not be able to zip it up again.
But what was more alarming was the horrid stench that still lingered, and for a moment I feared I was inhaling something dangerous. I threw open the kitchen window, then the garden door in the living room. I felt better.
Later I learnt that my jacket was 70% acrylic, and that burning acrylic apparently releases “oxides of nitrogen” and frickin’ hydrogen cyanide.
Holy bovine! I was inhaling cyanide?
There is No Kettle
This is worse than the time I accidentally set fire to the kettle years ago. Now, now, the kettle thing wasn’t actually my fault! It was my parents’ and it looked like a normal kettle which you put over the fire. I didn’t notice the plastic bottom it had.
How was I supposed to know it was an electric kettle!? Electric kettles should not be masquerading as kettles. The humble non-electric kettle gets enough grief as it is, having those fancy doo-dads stealing their thunder.
Flames leaped from melting plastic, and I don’t know how I did it, but I grabbed that kettle and set it down on an old rug. The fire went out, and I stared woefully at my parents’ kettle glued to the rug with gooey plastic.
My parents still tease me for wrecking their new kettle, while I tried not to hide my burning face in my hands. You can certainly bet that story will be whipped out and passed around the relatives for special occasions, down to every obscure branch.
Lord, that was scary. Must not put jackets on stoves! 😛
First night of work went well yesterday. Tonight is the last of my kitchen job, at least for now.
42103 / 50000 words. 84% done!