I'm so mad at Mr. Buffy I have no words.

Anyone who knows me at all knows I am risk averse by nature.  I don't see the point in incurring any unnecessary liability in life.  No pools, no fireplaces, no brothels on the premises.  (I can't even imagine what an on site brothel would cost to insure.). 

Those of you following along my little blog of useless information know we moved here several months ago.  My first house with a fireplace, which I consider attractive recipes for death and it was against my better judgement.  I made it quite clear that no one was to fire it up (so to speak) without first consulting the fire department for safety instructions, validating all components and sub components were in working order, and consult with me to get my sign off on testing it.

Mr. Knowseverydamnthing disregarded all of the above and attempted to try it out today so of course I came home to a house smelling like a campfire.  He just said he's going to make cookies to which I said don't bother as we don't need one more smell in this house.  He's just trying to turn this place into some weird Girl Scout jamboree. 

Well, I'm no Girl Scout.  I was a brownie for about 15 minutes back in the day,  and it's nothing I need to relive now.

we have no need to use the fireplace.  We are not Ma and Pa Ingalls in the Big Woods with Aunt Docia at sugaring off time.  We're a suburban couple with a modern heat source and access to a thermostat.  Apparently I'm the only one in my marriage that is aware of this.

this would have been fine...

but it it's not good enough for him for some reason.  I can only conclude he's planning to cook me.