I was boiling water for to make the oatmeals, and something on the burner's drip tray caught on fire (my sweetie does love boil-overs - dinner just isn't dinner without a boil-over).
The fire burned for a good minute, throwing up a fair bit of smoke. I prepared the hand towel for the inevitable smoke-alarm-alert-wavy-wave-waft.
Along with the smoke, tiny motes of burning boil-over rose up, like little flying creatures, lively little critters of energetic curiosity springing forth out of dinner debris in a flurry of spontaneous generation.
They burned out quickly, settling all over the kitchen as little specks of creamy ash, smearing everywhere like dirty little comets. They're so cute, I left them where they fell - I couldn't bring myself to scrub 'em off.
The fire burned for a good minute, throwing up a fair bit of smoke. I prepared the hand towel for the inevitable smoke-alarm-alert-wavy-wave-waft.
Along with the smoke, tiny motes of burning boil-over rose up, like little flying creatures, lively little critters of energetic curiosity springing forth out of dinner debris in a flurry of spontaneous generation.
They burned out quickly, settling all over the kitchen as little specks of creamy ash, smearing everywhere like dirty little comets. They're so cute, I left them where they fell - I couldn't bring myself to scrub 'em off.
