I had a lovely surprise phone call from one of my guardian angels on Sunday, during which I folded laundry and cleaned the bathroom and put away the dishes because I can’t let myself live in semi-squallor anymore (and I have PMS). We finally had to say goodbye so that I could get back to my Solaris edit and Bear could get back to his life of crime.
And as I sat down for a long day of computer work, I thought — you know what? I should light my new homemade “peace & happiness” candle that I bought at the lovely pagan festival on Saturday. That would be nice.
So I unwrapped the little spell, put it in a votive jar, and lit the wick.
About five minutes later the rest of the candle caught and burned like a house on fire. (Thank goodness I had put it in that votive jar, and was sitting right there, or it might have been MY house on fire.) It was mesmerizing and made me laugh hysterically.
Only *I* could explode a friggin’ peace & happiness candle.
The irony alone was worth the five bucks.
You need to read the fine print.
You don’t get the peace and happiness. That goes to the person who’s got your five bucks.
I’m sorry the first thing I thought of when you said
“I unwrapped the little spell…”
was the Dungeons and Dragons spell, “Explosive Rune.”
I WAS RIGHT!
You need to read the fine print.
You don’t get the peace and happiness. That goes to the person who’s got your five bucks.
I’m sorry the first thing I thought of when you said
“I unwrapped the little spell…”
was the Dungeons and Dragons spell, “Explosive Rune.”
I WAS RIGHT!