Haven't burned the house down. Yet.

Hubby and I have a new hobby.  Fire.  

Wait, no, we're not pyromaniacs.  We just recently confirmed that our fireplace is not dangerous (or at least we think it's not dangerous), so we started using it... every day.  
  

We've been living here for almost two years.  When the inspector evaluated the house before we bought it, he suggested we have the chimneys cleaned.  So we did.  The chimney sweep said they needed to be fixed.  We weren't sure if we believed him, so we lit our first fire.  Bur after a while, the fire started to smell like cancer - like burning plastic, or a chemical reaction, or cremation.  (Ok, I don't really know what cremation smells like, but it can't be good.)  So we immediately put out the cancer fire and haven't used the fireplace since. 

Until last weekend.  

We decided that we were done living with two - yes two - unused wood fireplaces.  So we called a few guys to book an inspection.  The least expensive company was going to charge 90 bucks - 90 bucks to basically look at our fireplaces.  Whatever.

But then we called one guy, who, despite the fact that he was either drunk, or crazy, or both, seemed to want to help us. 

He talked Hubby through a self-inspection, and helped us diagnose the problem - that is, that there was no problem.  Maybe the cancer smell was coming form the foam insulation underneath. 

Beautiful.

So Hubby ordered wood, had it delivered, and stacked it in our shed. 

And voila!  We've been lighting fires every day since. 

But our fires aren't really burning that well, so I started to think Hubby didn't really know how to build one.  "Did you shovel it out so it gets enough air?" I kept asking him.  "Did you put kindling in there?"  "Did you crumple the paper?"  

Yes, yes, he knows how to build a fire. 

So why isn't it burning? 

Turns out, the wood is wet (haha, that sounds dirty).  So we thought about taking it all back, but who really wants to un-stack and re-stack a bunch of wood?  No one. 

So we're tolerating the wet wood (haha, dirty again), simply because there's nothing like sitting by a warm fire on a cold damp Autumn day (even if it is a slow-burning pile of hissing, damp, and sizzling coals) . 

I just can't believe we waited this long to jump on the fire bandwagon.  I guess all we have to worry about now is that the fireplace is actually safe.  I think it is.  Yeah, I bet it's fine.  No more cancer smell, anyway.  And we haven't burned the house down.  Yet.  

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Mmmm... pudding...

Hubby made a funny observation the other night.  He said he's cooler than me (which isn't the observation, although that is pretty friggin hilarious).  Apparently he isn't just claiming that he's cooler than me - apparently he can prove it.

He said:

Just look at your night table, and then look at mine.  Mine has concert tickets, a book, guitar picks, and a Blackberry.  Yours has Kleenex, Advil, body lotion, lip balm, a mouth guard, and Vicks Vapo-rub.

Basically, the proof is in the pudding, is what he appeared to be getting at.

Well, now, let’s think this through.  Keep in mind that I was SICK.  Vicks isn’t a regular fixture on my night stand – it was a necessary evil for the time being, so I could breathe.  And Hubby doesn’t even read his book – it mostly just acts as a screen to block the blinking light of his Blackberry so Sleeping Hubby can get his rest.

But I’ve since started wondering if this Hubby logic could be applied to other aspects of our lives.

For example, our vehicles.

Hubby’s pickup truck: cool and manly.  My Honda Civic: popular and trendy.

But, let’s think that through.

Hubby’s red 1998 pickup truck says: “I’m a 65 year old retired farmer.”  And my four-door Civic sedan with stereo deck says: “I’m a 40 year old soccer mom pretending to be a 17 year old high school student."

So I guess that’s not very promising.

Ok, what about some of our personal possessions…

Hubby’s squash bag:  On the surface, Hubby is athletic and fun.  But after a closer look, he is competitive and has a significant odour problem.

My purse:  At first glance, I’m stylish with expensive taste.  But upon closer inspection, I experience severe separation anxiety at the thought of parting with my favourite - but very dilapidated - fashion accessories.

Hmmm, this analysis isn’t turning out so well.

How about our favourite tv shows...

If you just met me, you might notice that I like to watch the news, which clearly shows how sophisticated and knowledgeable I am.  But then you’d eventually learn that I record Young and the Restless every day and watch each episode at 1.3 times the speed on weekends, which unfortunately indicates that I'm totally unrefined, highly emotional, and exhibiting some serious addictive tendencies. 

If you just met Hubby, you’d think he didn’t like tv.  He’s too intelligent for that, and is more appropriately entertained by stimulating his musical senses.  But then you’d get to know him, and learn that his new favourite person is Snookie.


So what have I learned from this little exercise?  I think the whole point is, you can’t judge people based on one little insight into their lives.  There are always external circumstances, or skeletons in the closet, or cracks in your logic.  Apparently you can only judge them based on a series of little insights, considered as a collective.  Yeah… that sounds right... doesn't it? 

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