Riddle me this, Batman

 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.

 Since this is November, the month of Thanksgiving, let's see if I can focus on the positives here

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.

All in all, it wasn't nearly as much of a disaster as it could have been.  For that I am grateful.  But here's the mystery.  I can't find any wax on her.   You would think that for all that mess that she made, her fur would be covered in wax.   For sure, there has to be some wax on one of her paws, or in all of that tail fur.

There isn't.

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?