I smelled smoke.
Yes, I had been thinking, but I wasn’t doing Algebra, so I didn’t think that was the source of the wood smoke scent I was experiencing.
I had something in the microwave, but modern technology helps us harness heating in a way that would not cause flames.
Or so I thought. More on that in a minute.
I was up early. The rumor around town would be that my very own cousin would soon be the new principal at the high school.
Truth be known, this is her calling in life.
Even when we played together as children, Brandi was always in charge and always followed the rules.
So much so, that one of her childhood friends once crowned her “the queen of Hacklebarney”. Now, we can add to that, principal of Pierce County High School.
I kept hearing a beeping noise. No. It wasn’t the microwave or the smoke alarm. The smoke smell was still in the air as I tried to process the “beep, beep, beep” I was hearing.
I noticed a shiny reflection, a bright, silver glare on the refrigerator and pantry.
It was much too early in the morning for all this sensory overload.
I noticed, however, that the chrome-plated tanker truck had pulled up behind my house to both clean out my septic system and to install a new drain field for my house. I’m thankful to finally get that task taken care of.
It was cold that morning. My thermometer was reading 26 degrees. I felt for the crew out there working on my septic system.
That was the reason for my preparing a cup of coffee to take with me to work. It would help ward off the cold.
Coffee has been an acquired taste for me.
I have a friend who has a sign in her kitchen that says “Life does not begin before coffee.” She didn’t want you to talk to her, call her or email her until she had her first cup.
My Grandma loved her coffee. And it had to be hot. No, you don’t understand. I mean really, really hot. My uncle taught her how to prepare it in the microwave and press the buttons to make it count up to the desired number of minutes and the proper boiling temperature. If it had a setting, it would be somewhere between nuclear and hellfire.
I don’t take it quite that hot.
I always have loved the smell of coffee percolating, but it was only recently that I started drinking it regularly.
Truth be known, I like a little coffee with my cream and sugar.
I still couldn’t figure out the source of the smoke scent.
I’ve noticed many of these predicaments lately.
I lost my ink pen the other day. I stick almost exclusively to blue Bic ball pens. I searched high and low and hither and yonder and couldn’t find it.
I went to several stores around these parts hunting them and couldn’t find my brand.
I found an inferior substitute to work with to get by.
Then, sitting at my desk, I noticed them. I had put the whole box of new, blue Bic ball pens by my Stetson Bennett terracotta cup that serves as my pen holder.
A-ha! So that’s where I put them. I have noticed a series of malfunctions with my rememberer lately.
I also lost another sock to the jabberwocky that lives in the washing machine. I wrote my tithe check to my brother instead of the church. I mailed my car payment to myself.
The microwave signaled it had my coffee ready and... I found the source of the smoke. The microwave chamber was full of a blue haze.
In my morning bleariness, I had put my coffee mixture in a paper cup. The water inside kept it from catching fire, but it was black.
Mystery solved. That’s where the smoke smell was coming from.
Or, maybe, it was the smell of my last brain cell going up in smoke.
• Jason Deal is News Editor for The Blackshear Times. Reach him at [email protected] ws.
