Saturday morning’s wake-up call consisted of me trying to make cinnamon rolls, complaining that the oven wasn’t heating up, E checking the pilot light, and a giant ball of flaming gas whooshing out of the oven at him.

I had just turned my back to walk out of the kitchen. I saw a flash of light and heard a loud noise, and E ran past me into the bathroom and jumped into the shower. I didn’t even know what happened and was rooted to the floor like a dummy until he yelled “I’m on fire!” in between expletives. I couldn’t even see him in the dark bathroom, but there were no flames. Nothing in the kitchen was alight, thank god, and the stove was still in one piece.

This is the gross part. I will not include photos.

My poor boyfriend was a mess. His whole right arm was bright red and all of the hair had been singed off his arm, hand and chest. Blisters were forming on his knuckles. The burn went up onto his chest where he had another massive blister, already open. And his face… he had a blister forming over one eye and bright red streaks across both cheeks and up his forehead. He was going into shock when he got out of the cold shower – I had opened all the windows and doors to air out his apartment, and all the cool air was making him shiver. His hands were clammy and his heart rate was weak but going crazy, but he wouldn’t even lay down and let me get a good look at him until I yelled a few expletives of my own.

Like a boy, he refused to go to the hospital. Thank god his moron brother just happened to call, and he came over to watch E while I went to Walgreens and bought every burn dressing and ointment and topical pain relief concoction they had on the shelves. E’s brother was rinsing washcloths with cool water and laying them across his whole upper body by the time I got back. E was still complaining of being hot and wouldn’t even let me lay a cloth on his nose because it held his breath on his face and it was too hot to bear. He was still shivering and we wrapped every part of him that wasn’t burned in all the blankets we could find.

“I don’t wanna go to the hospital,” he chattered and I smoothed some lidocaine lotion on his arm.

“You HAVE to go,” I countered. “Baby, you have first- and second-degree burns and symptoms of stage 2 shock. If your pulse doesn’t steady in five minutes, or if that swelling above your eye begins to look any worse, we are going if I have to drag you by your toes.”

I put a cooling moisture pad on the open blister on his chest and he sighed. “That’s better.” Then, “How awful do I look?”

“Pretty shitty,” his brother volunteered.

“Do something useful and go re-wet these washcloths,” I snapped as I flung a few at him, then turned back to E. “Your arm really doesn’t look too awful and you still have your eyebrows.”

“I was pulling out clumps of hair in the shower,” he said, reaching up to feel his hairline. “How much did I lose?”

I felt around his scalp gently and found some singed ends where the clumps might have come from, but no patches that were burned clean. “I think the hair is safe.”

His breathing slowed to a normal rate and I checked his pulse periodically. Getting better. The moisture pads and lidocaine helped the pain, and the red area around his eye actually calmed pretty quickly. I was comforted by the fact that there’s a hospital only a few hundred yards from his house, just in case. So we stayed home and called him in sick for work. He was pretty unhappy about that since he was scheduled to wait on George Clooney again that night. But something tells me (and must also have told the managers of the Very Nice Restaurant where he works) that the blisters might not have done much for the tip.

He’s feeling much better now – still in pain, but out and about and still his usual crazy self. More blisters are forming on his face (it looks kind of awful but I will never tell him that) and his arm and shoulder are peeling like a bad sunburn. But it could have been so much worse. The whole kitchen still smelled of gas after we’d had all the windows open for several hours, and what if that had all ignited? I had been standing only a few feet from him when it happened – it could have been both of us. That burn above his eye could have been an inch lower. And if he hadn’t just rolled out of bed, he might have been wearing a shirt – which might have ignited, might have melted to his skin, might have spread the flames down his other arm and onto his back.

I’m not much for praying, but I spent a good deal of the day talking skyward to who or whatever is up there, pouring out thanks that the man I love is safe and mostly sound.

I hope you had a better weekend than we did.

I am dropping this letter in the mailbox the next time I go down to the lobby. I refuse to be trampled by an incompetent city bureaucracy, especially one that can’t even pay the fees for its own PO Box and causes hundreds of payments to be lost in the mail, inflicting this same problem on many others who happened to park on the wrong side of the street during street cleaning.

Twenty bucks is a lot of money in hard times. It’s a doctor’s office copay, a tank of gas, or several days’ worth of food. I’m not giving in without a fight.

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3/19/2009

Dear City of St. Louis Parking Violations Bureau:

I am writing in response to the “Final Warning of Delinquent Parking Violation” notice I received from you on 3/16/09, regarding ticket [redacted].

Why are you charging me a $30.00 late fee on a $10.00 ticket that, according to my records and yours, I have already paid?

The ticket was issued on 1/14/09 and my check came to you on 2/1/09. According to my bank, you did not process it until 2/18/09. If I was a moment late in doing my part paying the $10.00, I will gladly pay you the first $10.00 late fee. Yet this notice indicates that since I failed to respond to the ticket greater than 45 days after issuance, I have to pay a fine of three times the original ticket amount. I DID RESPOND. It’s even on the notice that I paid the $10.00 and my check was cashed. It’s not my fault you took over two weeks to process it, but you DID receive it. Please amend your records to reflect this.

I received the “second notice” warning just a day or two after I mailed the $10.00 check. Yes, I ignored it. I ignored it because I had already sent in my check and considered the matter settled.

After receiving this Final Warning, I called the information line. The woman there informed me that the $30.00 is a late fee on the first late fee that I did not know I owed. You want me to pay a second late fee because I am late in paying the first late fee for a check I had already mailed you?

This letter is my formal contest of this unnecessary fine.

You should have just sent me a separate bill and explanation for the first late fee. That would have been another $10.00 and we would be all settled.

I have enclosed a check for the first $10.00 late fee that you did not tell me I still owed after my initial payment. That will bring my total payment to $20.00, covering the original cost of the ticket and the first late fee. I do not believe I should have to pay the additional $20.00 as a fine on the first late fee.

Respectfully,

Rebekah [redacted]

I posted this excess baggage on Craigslist St. Louis just now. It only took me 5 years and E threatening to torch it for me to realize that it was time to let go. For a slight fee. It’s a long post for Craigslist, but it pisses me off when people don’t explain the crap they’re trying to sell and make buyers waste time hassling them with dumb questions. So, in the interest of not being hassled…

Jessica McClintock Wedding Dress Size 4, No Bad Karma or Sequins

That’s right, this is not another bad-karma divorce dress like many you see listed on resale sites or in shops.* I just didn’t get married after all, and that was a very good decision on my part. So really, you’ll have good-decision karma… and if you buy the dress I’ll tell you the whole story.

Or not. You probably don’t want to hear it. I’ll tell you about the dress instead.

This is a Jessica McClintock wedding gown in white matte satin, with skinny straps and a lovely low back. It has swirly embroidery in platinum thread across the breastbone and down the train, accented with small rhinestones. The sides meet at the lower back with three buttons and open to a chapel train. There are no sequins. I hate sequins and you should too.

The dress is a size 4. I was about 110-115 lbs when I bought it. The sides have been taken in a little bit, and bra cups (A-B) have been sewn into the front. The bustle has not been added, but the embroidery on the train will look lovely with either a traditional or French bustle. Because the chapel train is short-ish, the dress is not heavy and you will be grateful for that when you don’t have to hustle three bridesmaids into the handicapped stall with you to hold up your dress when that fifth glass of champagne has you wiggling.

The hem is unaltered and the hemline is a tiny bit dusty from all the times I tried it on (it’s a bit long on me and I was 5’3” then), but that will go away if you have it hemmed or if you have it professionally cleaned. A dry clean is recommended, although you should do that anyway AFTER you get all your alterations done. Just a tip from me to you.

The skirt is a full A-line with a little crinoline attached, and could perhaps be worn without a separate crinoline. However, a slim crinoline fills it out nicely and I do recommend that.

This dress cost me $399. My asking price is $150.

As much as I’d love to save this dress until I really do get married (and I WOULD wear it, just to keep the good-decision karma going), I’ve gained 20 lbs since I bought it and that might be Baby Jesus’ way of hinting that this is no longer the dress for me.

Actually, I blame the nachos.

I also have a matching halo veil with clear rhinestones and platinum wire that complements the embroidery perfectly.**

The veil is sheer, so it shows off the low back of the gown beautifully.*** You can buy the veil for an additional $30. It was something ridiculous like $80 when I bought it.

My weight gain is your gain if you buy this beautiful dress and veil for the economy-stimulating price of only $180. Cash only, please. Email me at the Craigslist address for a quick response, and we can arrange for you to come try it on.****

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* It’s not an ugly piece of shiny, sequined, puffy lace-sleeved scariness like most of those dresses either.
** Seriously? I have great taste.
***And you will WORK IT.
****Sometime when I’m not eating.

I use my cell phone when I’m driving. I do that a LOT. I don’t always plug it into my headset. I can make a 90-degree turn with one hand and back the car into my garage with my head cocked to clamp my Sidekick to my left shoulder.

I know that I am statistically more likely to cause a crash than someone who does not engage in these renegade behaviors. If you can read (and I am assuming you can, since you are reading this), you’ve seen the news about states attempting to legislate drivers’ use of cell phones. It started in New York in 2001 and is slowly seeping across the country. Use headsets, some say. No cell phones at all, demand others.

But cell phones don’t cause crashes. PEOPLE cause crashes. People cause crashes because they are distracted by things. Cell phones can be distracting when they require a hand off the wheel to dial or hold the phone. Conversations on cell phones can distract the driver’s mind from the road. (So can conversations with passengers, especially children, who can poke you and throw things at your head.) Even the fancy-pants built-in Bluetooth cell phone stuff requires your attention for a moment. And so do your air conditioner, your stereo, your sunroof, your new talking GPS device and the thing that connects your iPod to the stereo with wires that always need rearranging.

But you know what else distracts drivers? Food. Glorious, glorious food.

I wonder how many accident scenes are littered with fries and spilled sodas. How many airbags are red with ketchup? How many accident victims have to have their throats cleared by medics in order to keep them from choking on the bite of Half-Pound Beef and Potato Burrito that distracted them for one crucial moment?

Here again, I’m guilty. I do love the drive-thru. Eating on the road is the start of my morning multi-tasking, balancing an Egg McMuffin on my left thigh and holding the wheel with one hand still greasy from a Hash Brown as I slog through the traffic to work. I pick up food on the way home and can’t wait the two minutes it takes to get to my house before reaching into the bag for a nibble. It smells GOOD.
I can watch the road while I talk. If I’m driving and talking on a cell phone, I can drop the phone and grab the wheel and engage in evasive maneuvers in a split-second if necessary. But think about it – would you be so quick to drop your meatball sandwich on your wool pants? Have you ever tried to get barbeque sauce out of suede? Mustard out of corduroy?

It’s a heck of a lot harder than getting dust off a cell phone.

Yet EVERYONE eats on the road. Watch the cars coming off the drive-thru line sometime, especially those with just one person inside. Straw wrappers flying, napkins flopping, hot sauce packets squirting everywhere… The clever driver parks and arranges his picnic before pulling onto the road, but even he is not safe from the sudden stop. One hand grips the wheel, the other reaches instinctively to protect the chili-cheese Super Cholesterol Burger. Or he fails to see another car pull out in front of him because he has turned his head to see if there might be one more onion ring in the bag. Maybe he struggles to make a tight turn because his hand, damp from the condensation on the cheap paper cup, slips on the steering wheel.

A driver with food is just as distracted as a driver with a cell phone. Perhaps more distracted, especially now that drive-thru restaurants are coming up with messier and messier things for us to order. Tomatoes are slippery and ranch dressing is a fine lubricant.

Sometimes you have to slap laws around something just because some people are stupid. Guns, drugs, booze… all legislated because some people are dumb and can’t handle themselves. Missouri can go ahead and outlaw handheld cell phones for drivers. I’ll dig up the headset that hurts my ear, and my fellow drivers and I will be safer because of it.* It’s probably a smart thing, but it’s not a catch-all.

But just like there will always be idiots who drive drunk, there will always be idiots who drive sober and distracted. I honestly don’t believe that outlawing handheld cell phones will make a huge difference. Drive-thru food was just an example really, an example to make the point that we can’t scapegoat any one thing and blame it for an ever-increasing number of car accidents.

Everything distracting is increasing. Roadsides are cluttered with visual diversions. Until we can get rid of funny billboards and sign-wavers, we’ll still be distracted. Our cars are full of buttons and buzzers and fun new toys. Until we refuse to let someone drive his new car off the lot unless he can operate all of its functions blindfolded, we’ll still be distracted. The population is booming. Until we make all babies and small children stay at home until they know how to behave in a vehicle, we’ll still be distracted.

Stupid people will still find something stupid to do in the car because let’s face it: driving is pretty boring sometimes. And stupid always prevails.

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* But don’t take my McMuffin, or I am moving to Canada.

“Good morning, Breakfast!”

“You could just call him by his name, E.”

“You never told me his name.”

“Lars.”

“Lard?”

“Lars. He’s a Norwegian pig.”

“Lard, lard lard!” And he made the pig dance again.

Sigh.