Recently I bought my first melted wax candle holder. I would go visit someone and the house would smell heavenly. Then mine host would show me this little unit that you plug in, stick a block of scented wax in it, and WHALLAH. The olfactory senses are delightedly on the way to swooning.
So I go to Wally World. Have to go on safari to find the candle section. Discover I need a guide. Then walk a mile looking for a guide, which in Walmart can be as illusive as an endangered species. Finally get to the right section. I pick out the holder, then spend half an hour mulling over which scent. I chose the one with the peachy smell.
When I got my purchases home, I couldn’t wait to get my candle melter up and running. I managed to get it out of the box without breaking anything. Mike helped me set it up. He’s like a kid in a candy shop over anything new that has some assembly required, no matter how simple and unpretentious. Since he is an absolute guru when it comes to anything mechanical or technological, I let him have at it. I ain’t proud.
We found a spot central to the living quarters and mostly out of the way, with a handy dandy electrical plug in just the right place. Sheesh. I ask you. How often does that happen? So we plugged that sucker in, stuck in the wax and waited patiently for our something-new to do it’s thing. And waited. And waited. And waited.
Mike kept testing the wax. Wasn’t melting. The lovely smell just wasn’t wafting. He felt of the ceramic device and pronounced that it felt somewhat warm. So we just waited a little longer. Finally, with sad faces, we concluded that we had gotten a dud. Bummer. There are not many thrills in life this late in the game, and we were looking forward to our new purchase doing stuff that new purchases are supposed to do.
We decided we would box it up and take it back next trip to one of the Walmarts. First, however, I wanted to run it by our daughter Michelle, who is a candle connoisseur, and also someone who is a veteran at operating wax melters.
So later that day when she came calling, I asked for her expert opinion on our new one. I had not yet put it back in the box and had left it just as it was in case there was something not right about it — either the melter or our assembly thereof.
I knew something was dreadfully wrong when she started laughing. That’s not a good thing when it comes to something personally assembled.
“Mama,” she choked, “you put it together upside down.”
Like any good spouse I blamed it on Mike, who DID put it together for me. Why do you think people get married anyway. It’s not just for love. It’s so that, through the years, you’ll always have someone to blame.
About that time Mike walked in. When I told him, he looked shocked. Then chuckled abashedly.
“It’s a good thing I’m retiring,” he said. “I’ll never live this down. Defeated by a ceramic candle melter with only two parts. I had a 50/50 chance of getting it right and still blew it.”
Now that the blame wasn’t pointed at me anymore, I made wifely soothing noises and told him how brilliant he still was, even though almost over the hill.
Well, the problem of the uncooperative candle melter was solved and forthwith began melting our peach-flavored block of wax. Before half an hour was up our mouths were watering. It smelled better than a real peach. Or what our olfactory memories told us was real, old-fashioned, fresh-off-the-tree-slurpy-peach.
“We may not want to get that scent next time,” Mike said. “Too tempting.”
We have enjoyed our wax melter. But since we don’t go to Walmart every shopping trip, we ran out of scented wax. Daughter Michelle felt so sorry for us. Didn’t I tell you she is a candle smeller connoisseur? So she brought two blocks of her own wax over to us.
“Melt both of them,” she said. “They are not the same scents, but they work really well together.”
So, I trusted her and plopped the red block and whatever the other color was into the shallow bowl. I thanked her and prepared to be wafted.
But the more intense the odor grew, the more Mike and I looked askance at each other. The smell was awful.
“I don’t think we should have put those different scents together,” I said. Mike quickly agreed. Shortly thereafter I unplugged the unit, hoping the smell would dissipate. It didn’t. We opened the door for fresh air. Still didn’t help much. I was thinking that was one powerful scent whatever it happened to be. I vowed to ask Michelle the brand name. But one with, shall we say, a less pungent bouquet.
All night long that odor lingered. Until, toward dawn, unable to sleep, it suddenly struck me that I recognized the smell. The pilot light on the stove had gone out and we were getting noxious gas fumes. Not enough to be dangerous. Just enough to draw an amorous skunk to our neighborhood. Not really, but you catch my meaning.
Well, after all the problems we’ve had with our scented wax melter — purchased with innocent joy and hope — I think we’ve finally got them conquered. But Mike was done with candles. That would be my territory from now on, thank you very much.
“I’m going out to work on the truck,” Mike declared. “It’s greasy and smelly and the parts are heavy. I’m a man. And that’s where I belong.”
Okaaay. All’s well that ends well, and Mike is getting a new LP gas detector. Apparently the old one is worn out.
However, my advice is, if you run out to buy a scented wax melter any time soon, just take care of it yourself, girls. Or get your own candle connoisseur to set it up for you. Lot less trouble, believe me. And the good part is, when your husband comes back in from whatever dirty, stinky job or recreational activity he’s been involved in, you’ll have the house smelling just peachy. Just don’t let him eat the wax.
Love to all, Linda