Burning Down the House!

The past few weeks I've almost burnt down my apartment, not once but twice. The kitchen here is woefully small, which is fine since my roomate doesn't cook. So I only use the front two burners, on the two back burners we store out twin George Foreman grillz, the toaster, and whatever else accumulates (Cat pot-holder, empty liquor bottle, etc. etc.).

The first inceident occurred a few weeks ago, I was preparing tea while calling my dad, absently I turned on the burner, the rear burner. A few seconds later, right as I reached my dad's voicemail, the cat pot-holder caught on fire. There was a five minute message left on his voicemail which consisted of me coughing and saying fuck( a word he does not appreciate) intermittently.

The second incedent happened last Sunday, I was preparing tea (again), this time talking on the phone to a friend. I turned on the wrong burner (see a pattern here?). A little bit later, I smelled smoke, ran over to see what was happening. The toaster was on fire, not just burning, it was engulfed by flames, as was, tragically, the cat pot holder, which was finally destroyed. As was my roommate's toaster.

Farewell cat pot-holder, your whimsy brightened many a cold night.