Home Sweet Home. Until someone sets her hair on fire.
Visiting the parents.
It’s been about 24 hours.
That’s usually when the honeymoon starts to end.
No. I love spending time with my parents. It’s just harder sometimes. They are older. I’m older.
But in someways I’m still 12 years old to my father and I will be till the day one of us departs this earth.
I said I’d grill chicken tonight.
My dad has been the barbecue chef around here forever.
In my household, I’ve been the only grill chef for 2o plus years.
Hm.
Tonight I piled the charcoal. Squirted on the lighter fluid. Struck the matches.
The fire started.
I went out later and the flame was on lift support.
So I put on more fluid. And threw in another match. The match went out before it hit the charcoal. My parents got this particular book of matches on a trip to Palm Beach 30 years ago.
Next time, I bent down close to fire so the flame wouldn’t go out and laid the burning match on top of the coals.
EXPLOSION.
I got back in time. Only problem was that mom witnessed the conflagration from inside.
Mother’s GASP alerted my father to the event.
My dad’s comment.
“That’s what happens when you set a fire after a drink.”
Someone help me.
Please.
