Nance, that was a line I heard all the time in Chicago. One of the cops who babysat me while I went over reports was an Our Lady of Angels survivor. (1958 Catholic school fire that ripped through the building and killed 87 kids and three nuns. Horrible and legend in Chicago.) After we’d gotten to know that the other wasn’t evil, I asked him about it. I’d thought the door issue was one of the larger ones. Turns out it wasn’t. A lack of fire escapes from the second floor classrooms, petroleum-based waxes on the floors, brick exterior but all-wood combustible interior — the list of things that could, and did, go wrong goes on and on.

Both Emerson and Thoreau characterized themselves as poets. Thoreau was capable of a decent effort. Emerson was execrable, period. There’s the bee poem:

BURLY, dozing humble-bee,
Where thou art is clime for me.
Let them sail for Porto Rique,
Far-off heats through seas to seek;
I will follow thee alone, 5
Thou animated torrid-zone!
Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer,
Let me chase thy waving lines;
Keep me nearer, me thy hearer,
Singing over shrubs and vines.

Holy crap, that makes Styx sound profound, like poets.

MichaelG — First, I thank you for your condolences. I didn’t mean to infer that you were ready to ignite the block. My friend’s dad was elderly (as in 85-ish) and, in typical old-guy form, refused to turn up the heat. He preferred to warm himself over the stove, which was the stove’s sole purpose. He relied on meals on wheels for his hot food. Well, he ended up fainting over the stove and into the burners, which led to three months of misery for more than him. Now it seems like I’m inferring you’re old. I’m not! Someone, help me out of my mess!

Anyway, what I meant was a more smart-ass commentary between friends (which we aren’t) or at least people who have had face-to-face pleasantries (which we haven’t). Like others here I have covered my share of “accidental” fires that started much like your tableau depicted, though without the Ikea accoutrements or the stainless appliances or the glass of wine (more like a twist-cap bottle of Whoooo-EEeee!) or the off-camera fire extinguisher.

So, really, what NN.c needs is a convention so all these minds can meet. Blogosphere niche travel: Now that’s a million-dollar idea! Too bad I’m busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.

Sorry, MichaelG. I do mean that sincerely.

Minimalist seeks woman.

Now, since I had no built-in filtering methods, that meant I got about 200 phone calls. The scariest by far was a woman who took me a bit too literally, and told me that she didn’t use plastic containers, and ate food directly out of their canned/plastic packaging. Yeah. I chose not to meet that one…