I’m making it mandatory for my guests (haha, wishful thinking there) to bring their own hazmat suit when visiting (read: stepping in – overnight(ing) at my crib, or not). Why?

Because last Monday….I….almost….burned….my apartment down.

It all began by waking up one morning, skipping breakfast and heading straight to the bank. Reached home mid afternoon and don’t bother guessing who got so famished. Me, of course.

Prior, I did some groceries, and snacked a little…

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I’ve been searching high and low for scones and nailed it. Found it along with Biscoff and the combination was like… patting a unicorn. My bedroom slipper flips off my feet as I sat and eat. Talk about getting knocked off my feet. *wriggles eyebrows*

Then! Cooked and ate while watching Nikita and as the food level decreases in my bowl and the episode was about to end, I smelled something burning.

‘Oh! Must be the neighbour’, I thought to myself.

Pfft. That confidence.

So, I casually turn around to glance at my kitchen and to my horror my view was a little foggy. *gasp*

The orange light was on, indicating that one of the electrical hob was still heating and running. When I checked which heat level was it at, it was at it’s highest. -.- The saucepan with oil in it was reduced and smoking. You guys know how slow I eat right? -.-

Never in my life do I have to switch on the kitchenette ventilation exhaust to its full speed. Heck I hardly switch it on. It is soooo noisy.

But….. I had to. I mean, the smell was… so not pleasant. Eew.

 

YOU *squinteyes* My lifespan was almost shortened thanks to smoke inhalation. But then, you’ve served me well.

Till then, please click here, to get your hazmat suit. Bahahaha.