So if one day you have a kid who grows up and sets the rug on fire...

I had a nice productive weekend.  I started with a solo hike on Saturday morning. Then spent the afternoon editing with Darrin to bring this re-hash phase of our little project to a near end point. Sunday I cleaned up the house and got a good amount of writing done in the afternoon.

As the sun set it started to get cool fast so I picked up a little pack of wood and a bottle of wine at Vons on my way home where I planned to settle in to watch Dexter and the Curb finale.

I started the fire. I opened the wine. I grilled a burger. I turned on the TV.  Nice end to the weekend...

A bit later when the fire begins to die down I throw on another log which unfortunately didn't seem to catch the flame.  I take the fire tongs, open the chain mail curtain and grab a mostly burned glowing log on one end.  As I lift it up it snaps in half causing one end to crash back into the fire and toss a handful of glowing chunks out into the room.  OH NO!

I'm frozen for a few seconds.  What do I do!?

I actually started to reach for one...but reason stopped me before I scar my hand.

I take the tongs and attempt to grab each little piece.  But the problem is fire tongs are hardly precise machinery so it takes forever to get a decent enough grip on the golf ball sized chunks.  After I FINALLY get them all safely back into the fireplace I look down at the rug to find three two-inch dark, crushed spots of charred, melted rug with a few other smaller spots from the tinier embers.

Lame.

We got this rug new when we moved into our new place.

It really tied the room together, man.  And the scarring totally throws the feng shui of our interior design out the window.

Stupid fire.  Stupid, stupid fire.