Domestichels

I set myself on fire at the Regional Building Committee on Saturday.

After we finish making breakfast, we always have a brief meeting to assign lunch duties and cover a point of interest like food sanitation or decorum and presentation. Our meeting for the day was on fire safety. We had a brother come in and set up laptops and speakers, distribute pamphlets, and give a great presentation with all sorts of acronyms like PASS and RACE and ASAP. It was great. After our meeting, I went into the kitchen and set myself on fire.

Okay, in reality, we were making Cheeseburger Soup (?) and I was stirring the giagantic pot (vat, really) to prevent it from burning. I turned to talk to the sister to my left. Her eyes grew wide. "YOU'RE ON FIRE!" she gasped. I looked down. "Heh. I'm on fire." my brain said. My apron had caught fire, and was steadily working it's way towards my pants and flesh.

Now, I don't really get alarmed in these situations, so I wasn't all that concerned, but the sweet sister launched into all the steps we had just learned. "Smother the source!" She used the bottom of my apron to try to smother the flame. When that didn't work, she grabbed a colander and started whacking my stomach with it. I am audibly laughing at this point, but realize taking off the apron and throwing it on the floor is probably the best idea. I do so and the sister does an amazing dance on top of it, trampling the flame to smithereens! What a champion.

After the ordeal had passed, people around us started to gather and act alarmed. "FIRE!" someone yelled. A little late, buckaroo. The only evidence of our little fire safety demonstration was a smoldering apron on the floor and a boiling pot of Cheeseburger Soup.

Well, someone had to be the sacrificial lamb for fire safety day!
I guess I'm not quite domesticated yet.

chelsfantastic