"Burning Giraffes in Brown" by Salvadore Dali Ouch! Being burned is big time.
Even a little itty burn on your finger niggles at you night and day until the itchy healing part comes along.1, 2, 3... burns of memory:-In my grandmother's kitchen, about 3 feet in was a pole from floor to ceiling, passing from floor to floor. I guess it was part of the heating system of the building, but I had not then memorized the fact that one should never touch it just in case it was in boiling mode. A pole seems a likely thing to hold onto and lean against.... and all it took was once for me to burn my hand crispy to never do it again. I still remember what it felt like. -In high school, there was this boy with a motorcycle. It was my first time ever to be invited to climb aboardone, and I went for it with great enthusiasm. I did not know that you do NOT place your naked ankle against the exhaust pipe. I know it now. That is absolutely for sure. Wanting to be cool.... I torturedly rode the whole scenic route, thanked him, and bid adieu before going to my room to cry from the consuming pain. Another important lesson. -My grandmother moved in with my parents when she could no longer care for herself. One of her great accomplishments for which she was rightfully proud all of her life was her cooking and baking - absolutely MAKING the treats of family celebrations and smaller meals too. So when she wasn't allowed to cook anymore for fear of accidentally leaving something on or too close to the flame, it was a devastating blow for her. I would come from Seattle to keep her company when my parents went on trips and such, and one time, I thought, empathetically, with supervision, she could make her delicious matzoh pancakes, made in boiling oil. I guess you can see this one coming. I turned away for just the second when the oil met her hand and boils immediately started welting up. She had a very high tolerance for pain, but sitting with her in the hospital for treatment was one of the worst days I can ever remember. Poor Gram. My fault, really. -4: Tried to keep the cat from sitting on the wood stove in Cumberland... or walking on its surface even, so that when it was roaring inside, she wouldn't be hurt. One time it was going nice and hot... and she leapt from the chair to the floor via the stove top. I never saw a cat move so quickly from one surface to another. Poor baby, but she moved superfelinedly so that she wasn't hurt, seemingly. No complaining... but I felt horrid. Didn't do it again, though. All it takes is once. The moral of the story, I guess.