Just as I was heading out the door this evening I realized I hadn't blown out a scented candle I had burning in a jar in my room. Before I snuffed it, though, I saw there was a ridge of unmelted wax around one side, and my OCD (undiagnosed, but...) I smush that ridge down so the whole thing would melt evenly. Using the end of a plastic spoon I angled around the flame and under the top of the jar to get to the ridge, pulling it down into the melted wax. Then the spoon slipped - I found myself with a hand- and face-full of (black) melted wax spatters. The first thought was 'I'm burning! No, not burning - is it going to burn? DON'T MOVE' followed by the discovery that while the wax had fortunately not been hot enough to burn, I was now covered in it, scarf, coat, and all. My next thought was to photographically document the moment and update my Facebook status.
Seriously.
There are a couple of surprises today - the main was was realizing just how trained we have become to sharing everything electronically. The refrain 'pictures or it didn't happen!' is practically reality - seemingly an actual reality for me, as I immediately took a picture of myself with my phone, getting a wax-covered hand into the shot with my face, and then went upstairs to present the incident to my father. He told whoever he was talking to on the phone that his daughter looked like a 'chocolate-chip cookie' for some reason.
Remember how when some embarrassing or silly accident happened you used to look around furtively and hope no one had seen you? And how you'd try to forget it had ever occurred until you suddenly remembered it months or years later when you were trying to win a 'Most Embarrassing Story' contest? I think that Facebook, with its voracious and insatiable appetite for updates and information, has bred that tendency out of us. Now nothing has happened unless there is photographic evidence and some kind of validation. I'm not quite sure if this is a good thing or not - we seem to be gradually growing less and less discretionary, but we might also be getting more and more relatably human. It's hard to stand in awe of someone who uploads a picture of themselves wearing wax splatters and a sheepish smirk; it's maybe easy to see yourself doing the same thing.
(In retrospect, I'm not sure I'll post my picture. Vanity may beat out a need for validation - or perhaps there's still a touch of discretionary embarrassment surviving still. Also...)
In other news, the next surprise of the day came when, after cleaning the wax off my hands (non-burning candle wax peels easily off skin, did you know?) I remembered I still hadn't blown out the candle. Seeing I hadn't actually finished pressing down the unmelted ridge, I reached for my spoon and went at it AGAIN - and AGAIN, the spoon slipped and I got a SECOND splatter. See the post title; what did I actually think would happen?
Pressing the wax out of the fabric of my scarf and coat with an iron between towels worked pretty well; we'll see tomorrow if the mark will come all the way out of my shirt.
I'm still picking bits of wax out of my hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes.
At least I smell good!
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Apropos of nothing other than the fact that I love it, THIS:
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