Compound this with the fact that I tend to repeat my mistakes and you have the recipe for an interesting life.
My earliest example of this is when I was 2 or 3 years old. For some odd reason I had this morbid fascination with the electric burners on the top of our stove. I loved watching them get all orange and glowy. (I think I just made up a new word.)
Now, I don't have very clear memories of this, but evidently, I thought the only thing cooler than looking at them was to touch them. No less than three times, I stuck BOTH hands on the burners. I guess the days afterward spent with my hands wrapped in washcloths stuffed in bags of ice didn't teach me anything the first two times. Thankfully after the third, I wised up and stopped.
The upside? With all that fingertip charring, I might not have any fingerprints left, so crime spree here I come!
(Just kidding. I don't have the guts ... and it's wrong.)
2 comments:
Just so you know, I will blame you if our daughter ever does that.
One time I spent the night on Univ Ave to save seats for the 4th of July parade. Around 3 a.m. my friend was handing out these huge sparklers and everyone was waving them around. I had the thought that I MUST know what it feels like, so I grabbed the recently covered in flames metal. Bad idea. Of course, that night I had a seizure.
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