Got a light? I’m not on a cigarette break or anything (and if I did smoke cigarettes, I can tell you for certain that I would be smoking Virginia Slims, because I enjoy stock photos of thirty-something women laughing with one hand cupping their elbow and the other holding a thin smoldering cylinder of fun with their wrist flexed like they are about to throw it to their friend whom is out of frame but we can probably deduce is also laughing, most likely with their head tilted back at a obtuse angle). Actually, I am attempting to build a fire in our new house’s fireplace. I say attempting because what I’m really doing is wasting perfectly good matches. Did I miss the class on How To Build a Fire that one day I was sick in the tenth grade? I knew I should have signed up for Boy Scouts. That, or studied under the tutelage of a dangerous pyromaniac. Does anyone know a dangerous pyromaniac? If you do, I would love an introduction. Perhaps you could CC me on an e-mail to him or her. That way I can follow up after the initial introduction and maybe even set up a time to meet the pyro at a Starbucks or Coffee Bean or Red Robin (I have no idea where pyros congregate). In the meantime, I’m going to keep throwing lit matches at this pile of wood and newspaper. Anon.