I made a mistake earlier. I lit three yummy apple cider-scented candles to make the house feel warm and cozy. The mistake wasn't in lighting the candles; the mistake was in forgetting about the kitten.
Chester strikes again.
J walked into the dining room to find two candles burning. The third had been flipped over on its top with wax sprayed for a good two feet, all over my dining room table.
I am thankful that she managed to flip it over upside down and the flame went out. I shudder to think about what would have happened if that flame had kept burning.
I am thankful that she didn't set herself on fire. She is a puffy cat, after all, with a big, puffy, feather-duster of a tail and tufts of hair growing between the pads of her paws. My first cat, Galileo, got too close to a candle one winter and singed his whiskers. The smell brought me running and there he was, blinking and confused. He never got near a candle again. I'm not sure that Chester is that smart.
I am also thankful that I had some of those handy-dandy Pampered Chef scrapers in the kitchen. They made quick work of the wax without scraping my table up. Thank you Pampered Chef. Let me add that it's a good thing it is the winter, so it's cooler in the house. That allowed the wax to come up off the table much easier.
Upon closer inspection, which she loved, I found one single drop of wax inside her one ear. ONE DROP. She reeks of Apple Cider Yankee Candle, but all I can find is One. Stinking. Drop. Of. Wax.
How in the world did she manage that?