An unsung hero.
Why do we not appreciate wax more than we do?
Candles enable us to find our way in the dark when under the influence of a power cut. IKEA are selling us ‘Tea-lights’ for less than the price of electricity, these days, so there is no excuse for not having some in a pinch. You can also litter them about the place, either by placing the classic candles in bottle necks (or ordinary candle-sticks) or just sprinkling the ubiquitous IKEA tea-light around generally. Light them all to achieve some wonderful ambience at your next barbecue event. Be careful of your sleeves though as you reach across the table to tap your ash out in to a dead tea-light.
Wax impairs our hearing, but gives us something delightfully hideous to poke about with and play with. The bits that you promptly sweep up as they drop out of your ear at your desk? Nobody else saw that except you, and you get to be alone in your revulsion. The caked fingernail when you withdraw your little finger from your earhole? Yuck. Don’t tell anyone else what you get up to, it’s pretty important that nobody else finds out.
I’m not talking about that terrible film with Paris Hilton in (actually that was called House of Wax, wasn’t it?), I’m talking about the traditional pastime of making dimensionally accurate doppelgangers of fuckwit celebrities, for the express purpose of entertaining children and idiots.
Without these, we couldn’t spend so much time dangerously close to those whom we have restraining orders against. I mean, that night I sneaked in to Madame Tussaud’s was the most memorable night of mine and Britney’s life (in the morning they thought she had melted – but she cleaned up just fine).
Is it wrong to enjoy the feeling of hot wax on your hands? (I’m talking about something else now, not the ‘Britney Incident’ as London Metropolitan Police like to call it).
I mean, that feeling when you drip wax from a candle on to your hand, then it solidifies, and you get to pick it off. I don’t know what temperature it’s at, but it’s a funny feeling indeed. The idiot side of your brain – the one that hasn’t been subjected the concept of rational thought and believes only the things that you knew on the day you were born – believes it should be as hot as the fire itself.
It doesn’t burn me like the fire does, why? I am confused?
Last, but by no means least, wax enables us to keep our delicious pine tables in tip-top condition.