Why I'm not allowed to have candles

I was doing some massive cleaning and gutting of the house this weekend and wanted to light some candles to get rid of that people-funk smell our house gets when the weather is bad and I can't open windows. I found a candle at this cute little restaurant/gift shop here in town that is labelled "Pineapple Cilantro."

When I first saw it I fully expected it to smell like rotting compost and morning breath, and prepared to turn to my friends and say, "Ewe, gross!! Come smell this!!" Which would have been delightful, except that the candle smelled delicious! Like, produce section of some organic, hippie, whole foods joint DELICIOUS! And after spending an inappropriate amount of time smashing my nose into the candle, I bought it and took that sucker straight home. I have this very fancy little candle holder that fits the candle perfectly and I put that on the kitchen counter. And let me tell you, boys and girls, that Pineapple Cilantro candle made our house smell heavenly. Right up until I caught a plastic bag on fire.

Yes, you read that right. We're still not exactly sure how that happened. But it reminded me of the reason I had to buy the candle in the first place - because I'M NOT ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH CANDLES.  Let me explain myself.

The year was 2003-ish and I was in between undergraduate and graduate school, living with my roommates in a house we rented. I have a paper hoarding problem, and keep EVERYTHING. I'm working on it, and my therapist says I'm making real progress.  Back then I had a metal filing cabinet where I kept all my papers obsessively organized. On top of said filing cabinet was the only plant I had never killed, a plastic cup from my undergraduate program that said "The Big O, get it every morning" on it  (I swear, I am not making that up), and a purple, plastic pin cushion with a huge magnet inside. And two small, glass, votive candle holders with candles inside. Lit.

I don't remember the details leading up to the Incident very well. Only that I had been in my room organizing and compulsively filing papers.  The paper thing has been a problem for a while.  Then I left my room, and I don't know where I went, but I remember thinking afterward that I had only been gone for about 15 minutes. When I went back in my room I smelled something vaguely like burnt plastic, but could see nothing amiss. Then I looked at my filing cabinet. You know, the metal one?  With all the plastic stuff on top?  You know those moments in life where you see something, but your brain just doesn't register it at first, because somehow your subconscious says, "nope, not going there today, thanks for playing," and it takes you a second to realize what you're looking at?  This was one of those moments.

I saw my plant on top of the filing cabinet and I remember looking at it and thinking something was wrong, but not quite being able to put my finger on exactly what it was. And then someone pushed the Play button again and the world sped back up just in time for me to realize that my green, plastic planter was gone, and the dirt from my plant was left sitting on the filing cabinet in the exact shape of the missing planter. And there were two big, dripping blobs in front of it. One of them was the remains of that yellow plastic U of O cup, and the other was my purple plastic pin cushion.

It turns out that glass candle holders sitting on metal surfaces conduct heat amazingly well. We're talking, melting several ounces of plastic into molten liquid, well. US Department of Energy, are you reading this? Take notes!  We could heat the country off votive candles!

Lighting that plastic bag on fire brought it all back for me.  And then I was like, "ohhh, right!  THAT'S why we didn't have any candles!"