The Candle War

The Filter Queen man started it.  He visits our house once or twice a year and always causes some kind of uproar.  Last time he was here, he talked Pat into setting our air cleaner on top of the dresser in our bedroom so that it can "circulate better."  Well, could be, but it sure adds nothing to the already questionable decor in that room.  I went along with it until some space opened up in that room and I relegated it to a corner where it can do its thing and not look so odd. That's just a small example of the domestic disturbances caused by this man who services are overly expensive vacuum cleaner.

This visit is what caused the all out war.  He was here just a few days ago when, fortunately, I had an appointment and couldn't be here.  I'm always glad to be gone when he's here because he is a talkative sort who easily engages Pat and they march around the house talking excitedly and waving their arms as if to produce dust and air currents that they can "test" with the vacuum in strange ways that only the two of them understand.

The issue this time concerns candles. Pat smugly reported to me when I got home that we will no longer burn candles in our home.  They create too much pollution.  After all, do you realize what they are made of?  They are made from really gross smudge found only in China and then somehow vanilla-ized and sent to Target where we buy them by the basket loads.
 "Just look above the microwave, Terry.  See all that soot that makes the ceiling look like the Sistine Chapel before they stopped burning incense in there?"
"So what?" I replied.  "It's easy to clean."  He then silently and ever so accusingly ran his forefinger over the Filter Queen filter recently removed from our vacuum cleaner.  "See that? THAT'S FROM CANDLES," he said as he waved his sooty finger in front of my face.

A heated discussion followed with me bringing up such subjects as wood burning fireplaces and frequent drives up and down I-5 and ended with me dramatically throwing my favorite wicker wicked candle into the trash.  (Don't worry; I retrieved it as soon as he left the room.) Each of us turned on our heels and stomped off in opposite directions and so began a nasty little deep freeze between us.

The war began to show promise of ending when I met with my knitting group (the Knitwits) for our annual Christmas potluck and gift exchange.  I shared my domestic disturbance with them after two people opened candles as part of their gifts.  They were as offended as I was and quickly offered to come over for a candlelight vigil.

That didn't happen but I did do some research and found out that it really is far wiser to burn only soy-based candles or the kind that run on batteries but somehow still smell nice.  The war is over and the candles of Christmas are saved in our household.