Growing up (and still) my parents always had a wood burning stove. They've had two in my lifetime & that's pretty much all they use to heat with. However, in my childhood I failed to learn pretty much any skill that would make me handy around a house.
- I didn't know how to do laundry until my 2nd year in college.
- I didn't know how to mow the grass, much less start a lawn mower until I got married. I actually read the instruction manual for the lawn mower first, then called my brother to confirm the directions!
- Sweeping, mopping... yeah, neither are in my box of talents.
- Knowing the difference between a crop & a weed-- also not my strong point. My poor dad figured that out when he needed help in the garden.
- Feeding animals-- whew-- also not a strong point! Dogs I can do. Feeding goats? Goodness, I'd rather not talk about it. Feeding pigs? Totally out of the question.
- Cooking? Yeah, I'm still not good at that.
-Heck, I got stuck at the top of a ladder one time & couldn't get down.
-Building a fire? You have got to be kidding me.
So when I was around 14 & my sister was about 11, my parents decided to leave me to babysit for a little bit. Truthfully, it was probably 30 minutes, an hour at most. And my grandparents lived right down the road, in case of an emergency.
They'd been gone awhile when the house started to cool down a little. Since the heat source was the wood stove, I went over there & fiddled with it. Having absolutely zero idea about what I was doing, I managed to smoke up the entire house in just a matter of minutes. I didn't really realize this until I started choking, of course.
But if there's one thing I am in life, it's responsible, so I forced my sister (remember, she's 11, so it's not like she's a toddler or anything) to the bathroom on the other end of the house, which wasn't filled with smoke (yet). I made her get in the bathtub, closed the door & instructed her to stay in there no matter what-- unless I yelled "fire!"
Yes, I believe I actually said that. Gotta cover all your bases.
So I went to fiddle with the fire again, called my brothers, called my grandparents. I believe their advice was "turn the knob" & things like that. I'd turned the poor knob so many times that I really had no idea where to start back again.
And it got colder, so I took a blanket to my sister. She was not really happy & the bathroom was starting to fill up with smoke, too, so I did what any good sister would do... I shoved a towel under the door & told her to stay there... in the bath tub.
By the time my parents got home I had completely killed the fire, my sister had formed a new hate for me, and my parents officially decided that I was not to be left alone. Ever. Again.
To this day I'm not fond of fires. I don't mind them when others are in charge, but I do not want them in my house. In Greenville we paid $10 extra per month to get an apartment without a fireplace (not sure why it was more expensive, but it was worth it to me!). Sure, Josh can build a fire & do just fine. But I know that one day, I'll get stuck with it & likely burn the whole place down.
Anyone else terrible with fire like I am?