My husband calls me at work. “Charles set the bamboo forest on fire.” The first thing that comes to mind is that my ten year old pyromaniac has a serious conduct order. I may have a future Osama Bin Laden on my hands.
I rush home. My husband calls to update me. “The fire department says the fire was very close to the pile of bamboo poles. It would have exploded if the fire reached it.”
Amen for small blessings.
I arrive home. The fire department is still putting out the fire. My husband is in front of the house. There’s a guy playing a bass plugged into an amp. My husband smiles and says, “Hi honey.” I say, “what the hell is going on?” He says, “I put this bass on Craigslist. This is Jeff. He’s checking it out.”
I’m not at all in the mood to meet Jeff who wants to buy my husband’s bass. I say nothing and walk in to have a talk with my adolescent Joseph Stalin. I ask Charles what in the world he was thinking. He says, “I wanted to make a bonfire. I guess I didn’t put it out very well. The peat caught fire. I was in my bedroom. I had no idea until dad ran into the house yelling, “The fucking bamboo forest is on fire.”
I go out to the deck and see three snakes in the yard who are escaping the fire. I scream. My husband and Jeff come out to the deck to see what’s wrong. Apparently, Jeff likes snakes. He says, “Whoa that’s so cool.” Then Jeff picks up a stick and uses it to pick up one of the snakes. He brings it on the deck. I’m terrified of snakes.
I sit there and think, “What in the actual fuck?” Then I make myself a triple vodka on the rocks.