And how do I contact blogger to fix it? Twenty minutes perusing the site and I can't find a way to get this sorted.
No, I didn't slaughter the doll. This is not a snuff film gone bad. This is When Candles Attack
I'm never going to win the Harriet Homemaker award. Not gonna happen. However, I'm pretty sure there are ways in which one is supposed to wax ones floor. And I know this ain't one of 'em.
What happened? Well, let me tell you.
TCBIM has a thing for scented stuff. I don't know if it's a thing for the scented stuff or a desire to make sure that things don't smell bad. He does have a point - two babies in diapers and a cat, not to mention his hockey gear, things can get a bit stinky around here. So he likes to use scented dryer sheets and will sometimes light one of those mondo Yankee candles in the glass jar.
Last year, for Christmas, my mother gave me a candle warmer. It's a little electric gizmo that you plug in and it warms the candle (or your coffee). I thought it was cool - your candles lasted longer and you didn't have an open flame to get black soot all over the candle's glass jar. Nifty.
Nifty until you decide that your bathroom should be the locale for said candle warmer. Not only the bathroom, but the back of the toilet. The toilet that is a little unsteady, due to a house that's sinking or tilting or whatever thing it's doing that I'm desperately trying to ignore.
Cue me and Boo, Tuesday night, bath time. She's in the tub with her little tub dolly and a wash cloth, having a gay old time. I'm sitting on the (closed) toilet seat with my nose buried in The Lightning Thief (excellent book, by the way). Out of the corner of my eye, I see her fill a little cup with water. I watch her pour it over her dolly. I watch her wash the dolly. Then I watch her fill the cup again and start to empty it over the side of the tub. This causes me to leap from the toilet (now there's a phrase I don't say very often) to snatch the cup from her hand.
Said leapage caused the toilet to rock a bit. Said rockage caused the candle warmer to slide off the back of the toilet, spraying hot, red wax into the toilet, all over the floor, walls, lovely white bath mat and tub. A little bit got on Boo, mainly in her hair. She was fine - the wax, at that point, wasn't hot enough to do anything to her.
My bathroom, however, is fucked.
This is after 20 minutes of scraping. Notice the brand new spatula. And the knife. They didn't do shit. I have to go buy a flexible paint scraper, apparently.
I dunno, this picture has me at a loss for words. Wax puke. Caption that one, people. I need some amusement right about now.