Maple walnut et al

Posted on August 28, 2012

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I bought three scented candles today, for the first time ever. (This is because my girly sister left a stockpile of various candles when she moved away and the power cuts depleted them. Then a friend of mine got married and I noticed his apartment started to smell very nice, which he kindly explained was due to scented candles purchased by his wife. In conclusion, it took me years of observation and repeated infrastructure failure to bring me to this point.) I went round to Mahmoud’s and thought I’d test out the various smells ­- one claimed to smell like “witch’s brew” so I was understandably apprehensive. I turned it over to see if god forbid there was some cinnamon or ginger or some shit up in there. I found this printed neatly on the bottom:

 

Burning

Instructions:

When lighting this candle for this first time, allow it to burn 2 hours, then extinguish it. After wax has become cool and firm, repeat this step several times. It is important that a 2” diameter wax pool surrounds the wick when burning. After each burning, trim the wick so that 1/4” of the black area remains.

 

Motherfuck this, I thought to myself. This fucking candle requires more care than a newborn child! Do we really need the heading ‘burning’? What else could I possibly do with a candle? Apparently, watch it lovingly – stopwatch, ruler and nail scissors in hand – for two hours, then cool it; then light it for two hours, then cool it…SEVERAL TIMES. Three days later, you might get around to the rest of your life.  And the whole goddamn candle was two inches in diameter – should I fear a wax waterfall effect? How to prevent it? I grew quite anxious, regretting the 15 pounds I had spent.

I read shouted most of the above at Mahmoud, concluding with a “fuck this shit!” to which he assented. I lit a candle. Then I put it out… NOT 30 SECONDS LATER. Without measuring shit.

 

I went home and tried to light the same candle I’d lit before. AND I COULDN’T. The wick had snapped off and it was impossible to light it, no matter what crafty wax digging I performed. I burned my hand. As of the time of this writing, I’ve re-lit it six times, turned off the a/c to guard its precious flame, got wax over 3-5 surfaces, and received nary  whiff of “cranberry preserve” or even light. I should have listened. I cocked it up. Maybe I’m not cut out for scented candle ownership. Or maybe I should ask my friend’s wife to guide me unto her wise candle acquiring ways.

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