Billy Joel didn't start the fire...I did...
Let me tell you why it is I'm typing this with watery eyes, both my fans on, my sliding door open, wearing three layers and a blanket, and my lungs filled with smoke...
I wanted some dinner before I sat down to type up my reaction blog to last night's Golden Globes. I took one look in my cupboard and decided I wanted something less ghetto than Ramen noodles and toast again. So I decided on something glamorous...mac-n-cheese. My first mistake.
My stove is usually used as a drying rack. I have four burner covers on and a towel over the top of them which I stack my dishes on when the drainer doesn't have enough room. I was getting lazy and just moving the towel from the front burners to the back ones and then using only the front burners. My second mistake.
It was only a matter of time...
For my dinner for one I did like I usually do...moved the towel to the back burner and set my pot of water on the front left burner. I turned on the burner and walked away to continue my episode of The Simpsons. My third mistake.
I just got TV reception yesterday. I'm really excited about it! I haven't had TV since 2009 when I had a roommate to split the bill with me. Yes, I knew there was a such thing as digital TV converters, but I just never got around to buying one. So there I was totally engrossed in my show...not checking the water to see if it was boiling. My fourth mistake.
All of a sudden I smelled something burning. It took my brain a full 30 seconds to process it. I didn't rush up by any means because I figured a wayward spaghetti noodle was caught under the burner and causing a little smoke. My fifth mistake.
I live in an efficiency so it's essentially a kitchen and a big room with my TV and my bed. It took me about 5 steps to get from my couch to my kitchen. It took me another 10 seconds (at the very least) to assess the situation. There was smoke quickly billowing in to the kitchen and my pot of water was just sitting there. It FINALLY hit me that I had on the wrong burner! I've killed my fight-or-flight brain cells with rail vodka, I just know it! My sixth mistake.
So what do I do? I automatically grab the towel off the burner. My seventh mistake.
Grabbing the fucking towel was retarded. What I should have done FIRST was turn off the fucking burner! But no, I grabbed the towel and pulled it up allowing oxygen to get to it and that's when the flames started a licking! So what do I do? I start beating the fire with the tin burner covers...cuz yeah...didn't you guys know tin beats fire? No...it doesn't actually. "Smother the flames!" I heard my brain yell. Oh hey brain...glad you could show up to the party once the flames started going!!
Somewhere between looking around for something to smother the flames, cursing myself for not asking for a fire extinguisher for Christmas, and coughing my brains out...I turned off the burner. I started beating the fire with the other end of the towel to no avail. The more I beat the damn towel the higher the flames went! My eighth mistake.
Finally my brain grabbed the burning towel and threw it in the sink and turned on the water. But the flames weren't dying down! "God damn you just go out!" I yelled to no avail. Turns out yelling at the fire doesn't put it out either. Who knew?
Eventually I got the towel soaked enough that it did go out. This entire process probably took a total of 3 minutes, but it was scary as hell! I looked in my sink and my Corelle dishware was just sitting in there laughing at me. Let it be known that not only does Corelle last through dropping it on the ground...but it will outlast pesky kitchen fires as well!
Once I got the fire out I realized my entire tiny apartment was now clouded in smoke. I looked around for my cat and coughed "Precious stay low to the ground!" Precious is my cat and truth be told she already is pretty damn low to the ground.
I immediately started to freak thinking I was going to set off my fire alarm and I grabbed my bar stool to stand up on to get near it knocking over everything in my way. I twisted and turned and yanked but the damn thing just stayed where it was. And it never went off. Good to know that if my bed were burning I'd probably never be woken up.
Then I realized I needed ventilation. I couldn't see, my eyes were watering, my lungs were filling up with smoke so I looked over to my sliding door. Let me reiterate that I live in an efficiency...not a lot of good air flow in these. In fact, the only window I have is my sliding glass door that opens up to my little porch.
A sliding glass door that I had JUST gotten around to plastic wrapping for the winter...yesterday. Yes, I know it's the middle of January...but I like the cold. In fact the only reason I even put plastic on the window was because my damn MG&E bill was $88 last month. For a one room shack, $88 is fucking ridiculous! I was so happy that I did the entire window all by myself in about 20 minutes. I wished I had done it earlier so I could've saved money. My ninth mistake.
As much as I didn't want to ruin my masterpiece, I also didn't want to die from smoke inhalation so I reluctantly tore the plastic down and tried to pry open the door. Well, I have two safety bars in the way just so no one can open my sliding door. After giving it some good yanks I realized I was doing it wrong...that's what she said! So I moved the damn bars and yanked open the door and took a very very big breath of fresh cold winter air!
I still had smoke just sitting in the air so I grabbed both my fans and faced them out to try and persuade the smoke away from my hallway door so that I didn't set off the alarm for the entire building. Not that I minded the idea of a truck full of firemen at my door...but the fact that I am the idiot who started the fire makes me think I'd already fudged my chances with any of them. Frantically I blocked the door with my floor mats and started spraying the dickens out of my Febreze can. Febreze...gets the smoke smell out of the air after starting a kitchen fire!
I had my Febreze room spray in one hand and my Glade Fabric & Air spray in my other and I attacked my little 400 square foot apartment. I sprayed every surface about twelve times. I don't want to lay my head down on my pillow tonight and inhale the scent of shame.
Let me also add that during this frenzy I did locate my cat. I tried to grab her and put her in the bathroom away from the smoke, but she smartly learned that I am not to be trusted and ran under my bed. I figured that once I got the window open that she'd sit there and be safe anyway. I will closely be monitoring the both of us for signs of smoke inhalation for the rest of the night.
All I wanted to do was make some dinner! I am the WORLD'S WORST COOK. Hands down. I can't even make mac-n-cheese without burning the place down. What the fuck Alicia? I have a college degree for chrissakes! Granted it is a Bachelors of Arts so maybe it can be argued that I don't have a strong grasp on the science aspect of fire starting...but I had hoped the degree meant I had a little common sense.
I immediately called my sister Liz because I knew her and her roommate have had 2 kitchen fires --yeah, apparently it runs in my family--and I wanted to know if the place was gonna stink for days. She was the only person who wouldn't automatically make fun of me for being an idiot.
Clearly I need to return that cooking badge I earned in Girl Scouts. Someone should just rip it off my sash and toss it on the ground and then do a Mexican hat dance on it. Who am I kidding? I never earned a cooking badge. In fact, I never made it to the Girl Scouts. I was a Daisy Scout and then I quit. I'm a quitter who can't cook. No wonder why I'm pushing 30 and still single.
For the record...my apartment is fine...the only thing that was damaged in the fire was my pride. Well, that, and the damn towel that started it all. I can't believe how quickly my stupid mistakes added up to one disaster of an evening. And I'm still fucking hungry!
I think I'm going to go back in to the kitchen and try not to burn it down when I microwave my Ramen noodes...
I wanted some dinner before I sat down to type up my reaction blog to last night's Golden Globes. I took one look in my cupboard and decided I wanted something less ghetto than Ramen noodles and toast again. So I decided on something glamorous...mac-n-cheese. My first mistake.
My stove is usually used as a drying rack. I have four burner covers on and a towel over the top of them which I stack my dishes on when the drainer doesn't have enough room. I was getting lazy and just moving the towel from the front burners to the back ones and then using only the front burners. My second mistake.
It was only a matter of time...
For my dinner for one I did like I usually do...moved the towel to the back burner and set my pot of water on the front left burner. I turned on the burner and walked away to continue my episode of The Simpsons. My third mistake.
I just got TV reception yesterday. I'm really excited about it! I haven't had TV since 2009 when I had a roommate to split the bill with me. Yes, I knew there was a such thing as digital TV converters, but I just never got around to buying one. So there I was totally engrossed in my show...not checking the water to see if it was boiling. My fourth mistake.
All of a sudden I smelled something burning. It took my brain a full 30 seconds to process it. I didn't rush up by any means because I figured a wayward spaghetti noodle was caught under the burner and causing a little smoke. My fifth mistake.
I live in an efficiency so it's essentially a kitchen and a big room with my TV and my bed. It took me about 5 steps to get from my couch to my kitchen. It took me another 10 seconds (at the very least) to assess the situation. There was smoke quickly billowing in to the kitchen and my pot of water was just sitting there. It FINALLY hit me that I had on the wrong burner! I've killed my fight-or-flight brain cells with rail vodka, I just know it! My sixth mistake.
So what do I do? I automatically grab the towel off the burner. My seventh mistake.
Grabbing the fucking towel was retarded. What I should have done FIRST was turn off the fucking burner! But no, I grabbed the towel and pulled it up allowing oxygen to get to it and that's when the flames started a licking! So what do I do? I start beating the fire with the tin burner covers...cuz yeah...didn't you guys know tin beats fire? No...it doesn't actually. "Smother the flames!" I heard my brain yell. Oh hey brain...glad you could show up to the party once the flames started going!!
Somewhere between looking around for something to smother the flames, cursing myself for not asking for a fire extinguisher for Christmas, and coughing my brains out...I turned off the burner. I started beating the fire with the other end of the towel to no avail. The more I beat the damn towel the higher the flames went! My eighth mistake.
Finally my brain grabbed the burning towel and threw it in the sink and turned on the water. But the flames weren't dying down! "God damn you just go out!" I yelled to no avail. Turns out yelling at the fire doesn't put it out either. Who knew?
Eventually I got the towel soaked enough that it did go out. This entire process probably took a total of 3 minutes, but it was scary as hell! I looked in my sink and my Corelle dishware was just sitting in there laughing at me. Let it be known that not only does Corelle last through dropping it on the ground...but it will outlast pesky kitchen fires as well!
Once I got the fire out I realized my entire tiny apartment was now clouded in smoke. I looked around for my cat and coughed "Precious stay low to the ground!" Precious is my cat and truth be told she already is pretty damn low to the ground.
I immediately started to freak thinking I was going to set off my fire alarm and I grabbed my bar stool to stand up on to get near it knocking over everything in my way. I twisted and turned and yanked but the damn thing just stayed where it was. And it never went off. Good to know that if my bed were burning I'd probably never be woken up.
Then I realized I needed ventilation. I couldn't see, my eyes were watering, my lungs were filling up with smoke so I looked over to my sliding door. Let me reiterate that I live in an efficiency...not a lot of good air flow in these. In fact, the only window I have is my sliding glass door that opens up to my little porch.
A sliding glass door that I had JUST gotten around to plastic wrapping for the winter...yesterday. Yes, I know it's the middle of January...but I like the cold. In fact the only reason I even put plastic on the window was because my damn MG&E bill was $88 last month. For a one room shack, $88 is fucking ridiculous! I was so happy that I did the entire window all by myself in about 20 minutes. I wished I had done it earlier so I could've saved money. My ninth mistake.
As much as I didn't want to ruin my masterpiece, I also didn't want to die from smoke inhalation so I reluctantly tore the plastic down and tried to pry open the door. Well, I have two safety bars in the way just so no one can open my sliding door. After giving it some good yanks I realized I was doing it wrong...that's what she said! So I moved the damn bars and yanked open the door and took a very very big breath of fresh cold winter air!
I still had smoke just sitting in the air so I grabbed both my fans and faced them out to try and persuade the smoke away from my hallway door so that I didn't set off the alarm for the entire building. Not that I minded the idea of a truck full of firemen at my door...but the fact that I am the idiot who started the fire makes me think I'd already fudged my chances with any of them. Frantically I blocked the door with my floor mats and started spraying the dickens out of my Febreze can. Febreze...gets the smoke smell out of the air after starting a kitchen fire!
I had my Febreze room spray in one hand and my Glade Fabric & Air spray in my other and I attacked my little 400 square foot apartment. I sprayed every surface about twelve times. I don't want to lay my head down on my pillow tonight and inhale the scent of shame.
Let me also add that during this frenzy I did locate my cat. I tried to grab her and put her in the bathroom away from the smoke, but she smartly learned that I am not to be trusted and ran under my bed. I figured that once I got the window open that she'd sit there and be safe anyway. I will closely be monitoring the both of us for signs of smoke inhalation for the rest of the night.
All I wanted to do was make some dinner! I am the WORLD'S WORST COOK. Hands down. I can't even make mac-n-cheese without burning the place down. What the fuck Alicia? I have a college degree for chrissakes! Granted it is a Bachelors of Arts so maybe it can be argued that I don't have a strong grasp on the science aspect of fire starting...but I had hoped the degree meant I had a little common sense.
I immediately called my sister Liz because I knew her and her roommate have had 2 kitchen fires --yeah, apparently it runs in my family--and I wanted to know if the place was gonna stink for days. She was the only person who wouldn't automatically make fun of me for being an idiot.
Clearly I need to return that cooking badge I earned in Girl Scouts. Someone should just rip it off my sash and toss it on the ground and then do a Mexican hat dance on it. Who am I kidding? I never earned a cooking badge. In fact, I never made it to the Girl Scouts. I was a Daisy Scout and then I quit. I'm a quitter who can't cook. No wonder why I'm pushing 30 and still single.
For the record...my apartment is fine...the only thing that was damaged in the fire was my pride. Well, that, and the damn towel that started it all. I can't believe how quickly my stupid mistakes added up to one disaster of an evening. And I'm still fucking hungry!
I think I'm going to go back in to the kitchen and try not to burn it down when I microwave my Ramen noodes...
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