Candle on the Window

Today, I worked hard to create a lovely space in my bedroom for lying on the floor (on my very soft rug), studying or perhaps enjoying a pleasant novel.  All that was needed for the perfect ambiance to add to my most recent Kindle acquisition was a nice lavender-scented candle, in its pretty glass holder.  I spent a very happy interlude with my book on the floor, then went off to the kitchen for a glass of water.  When I returned, less than two minutes later . . .

The candle somehow reached a temperature hot enough to send flames leaping from the glass holder.  Concerned for the safety of my bedroom, I tried to blow it out, but the flames happily lapped up my expelled breath and grew larger.  Thinking rapidly, I became aware of the glass of water in my hand.  Now, I am smart enough to know that pouring the whole thing on the fire would have likely ended badly, so I instead opted to slowly dribble a bit of water on the fire, hoping to shrink it down gradually and calmly.  What happened next was a massive sizzling, followed by some spitting and hissing (it sounded not unlike an angry stray cat), followed by an explosion of glass, wax, and fire.  My glasses and window were splattered by the wax and the glass had enough force to send some of it more than three feet away.  As I opened the window to release the billowing smoke afterwards, I observed a moment of silence for the ten years of my life that fled in panic during the explosion.  An hour later, my hands were still shaking!

Who knew that cheap candles could be so dangerous???

All that remains of my dearly departed candle.