A burning in the bosom

Our family has started a Sunday night tradition of popping popcorn on the stove and eating it while watching a show (although since we are working on our Sabbath Day behavior, it is now old home movies). Normally, this is a pain-free experience. But not tonight.

I was standing in front of the stove, shaking the pot of popping corn. It was starting to overflow, so I went to dump out some of the popcorn into the bowl. And of course, a couple errant kernels went flying. And one just happened to go down my shirt.

Can I just tell you that those puppies are HOT??

This kernel was lodged between a certain undergarment and my tender, delicate skin. Skin that has never before seen the light of day. It may as well have been a hot poker or piece of flaming coal searing my sternum.

And then I didn't know what to do. I was screaming from the pain, but I was also holding the pot and knew that I wanted to get that back on the burner so the rest of the corn could finish popping. And I wanted to get the salt shaken onto the popcorn while it was still hot. Why that was such a concern I really can't say. You would think that getting the smouldering little ball of fire off my chest would be priority number one.

Then I was caught in the dilemma of how to get it out. Do I reach down? Here's a tip for you: don't try to reach down. It just moves the kernel around so that more sensitive skin can share the joy of white-hot pain. No, it is best to pull all clothing away from the body so that it can just drop out. I learned that the hard way.

Now, two second-degree burns and some aloe vera gel later, I am sitting comfortably with my small wounds. And sorry kids, there will be no pictures for your enjoyment. This is a family blog. Shame on you.