I have been doing some plant based dyeing of silk scarves. A friend suggested using purple carrots to create the dye, so I have been experimenting.
My decision to go for a swim was impulsive. I had been home all day, missing my usual exercise and a quick look online at lane availability at my pool showed it was a great time to go swimming, if I went right away. So I did.
Then as I started down lap one I thought, did I turn the pot off on the stove?
I tried to imagine my hand turning off the switch and my eye watching the flame extinguish. Yes yes I am sure I did.
Lap two, hang on, I turned off the flame a while ago and then turned it back on when I put the second scarf back in for more dye. Did I turn it off? Think think..
Lap three - I'm pretty sure that I didn't. Hubby is at home. Should I go and get him to check? My phone is in the car, I don't have any money, hopefully if it starts to burn, he or my son will notice (maybe)
Lap four - I can't do anything so I will just have to wait..keep swimming with fingers crossed.
Here I am obsessing. But you see there was a time, a long time ago, probably 15 years ago. It was wintry Saturday morning in our old unrenovated kitchen with the unreliable gas stove. I had decided to make soup. Lots of soup. Pumpkin soup, potato and leek as well as our family favourite lentil soup. Plenty of soup for the weekend.
Saturday morning was soccer morning. Hubby took son to the pre-game warm up as I was cooking. Time passed and suddenly I was due at the game. Grabbing my keys and heading out the door, I made it to the field in time for kick off.
As I drove home, I had a thought, I hope I turned the soup off.
Arriving at the house, it was still standing and everything looked fine. Phew I thought.
Opening the front door, the hall was thick with white smoke. Acrid, metallic, burning smoke.
I can't remember what I screamed as I ran the length of the hall to the kitchen but it wasn't pretty.
In the kitchen, there were no flames but there was lots of smoke, thick white scary smoke and two melted saucepans. I had never seen melted saucepans before (or since, I might add).
Opening the back door, grabbing oven mitts I lifted the two pans out into the garden and placed them on the ground.
Inside, I opened every window and ushered the smoke into the garden. The stench lasted for days and served as a sobering reminder. Now I can never be sure if it was because the stove knobs were dodgy and didn't turn off properly or whether, I just got distracted and forgot.
That was a lucky escape and the possibility of what could have happened, comes to mind (nearly) every time I leave the house.
Postscript to the earlier story - I had turned the pot off! Phew!
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| Pot reflections on a good day December 2012 |
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