One recent morning, I was home alone cleaning the house, and I brought some empty Amazon boxes into the yard to burn them. Yes, we burn our cardboard. We have a dump—I mean, a transfer station—and we have to bring our trash to it, but I prefer to burn what we can. This is classy country living!
Anyway, I started the fire, added a few boxes to the pile, and as the flames grew, I noted a log that was rather close to the flames. I didn’t want it to catch fire, so I tried kicking it aside with my foot, but it was frozen to the ground. I gave it a harder kick, felt it come loose, and then stooped to pick it up.
It’s easy to say we aren’t vain or attached, right up until the moment we set our hair on fire.
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