Yesterday at work I semi-organized a Pot Luck Break-Brunch Breakfast--I say semi-organized because I kind of meant for it to be brunch but when I got to work everyone was really ready to eat--at like, 9:00.
Somehow, probably because it was my idea, I got signed up for waffle duty. A co-worker brought the iron, I brought the mix (a soy milk, vegan butter, egg replacer version for me) and I made the batter just fine, though I needed supervision...I tend to over stir...
Then, it comes time to make the waffles. I argue. I try to explain. I
cannot. I have explained to my co-workers before about my little fire problem, but I don't think they understood until I was standing in front of the waffle iron, the smell of heat causing flashes to go through my head of the burning of Atlanta and Joan of Arc (was she burned at the stake?)...I started with the breathing and the almost tears and shaking that always happens when I smell things getting hot...then Colleen stepped in and said, "you're getting really red...I'll make the waffles..."
I have arsonphobia. That, my friends, is fear of fire. And if you don't believe me, Google it. It has crept up on me over the last year or so...so much that I can hardly use my coffee pot or microwave, and I never use my oven or stove top. Even my toaster freaks me out. If I so much as smell heat or fire I REALLY freak out. Frisk, Gene, and Vanessa can tell you this first hand. I've called all three of them at strange times, usually crying, thinking that something in my apartment is about to burst into flames.
Don't even get me started on when the spoon fell into the dishwasher....that was bad....I had to go next door and get the neighbor to help me...sigh.
They have treatment centers for it...I wonder...how long can I live with it? Is it really that debilitating? Will it get worse or go away as fast as it hit me?
It can't be
that bad to not cook my food...
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