Let there be Pain

In which a Lack of Vigilance leads to Damaged Seat Covers and a Lack of Intelligence leads to Pain.

All I need say is "large lead-lighting soldering iron, kitten, molten solder, short trousers," and you can probably work out the details for yourself. However, the little sadist that sits on your shoulder is probably begging for the subtle nuances of idiocy and consequent suffering.

After too many years of procrastination, I'm finally getting around to completing the last of five lead-light wall sconces for our lounge room. There's a large family event at our place next week, so there's a good reason to finish the last one (to keep MotherInLawOfVirge less dissatisfied). Today was soldering day. I'd done the assembly of the three panels this afternoon; this evening, time to connect them up into a three-dimensional light fitting. I turned on the big-mama soldering iron and left it on a scrap piece of board on the table. Lu-Tze jumped onto a chair and examined me and my work.

"No! Not for you, Lu-Tze!"

He kept looking. I brandished a water squirt-bottle to discourage him. He scampered off.

The iron was still warming, so I wandered off to the toilet. As I left the smallest room, I heard a thump... from where I'd been working... and a patter of paws. I sprinted. The soldering iron was off the table and on the seat, burning the seat cover and just starting to smoke. The cover now has a large black burn mark. Add it to the things that need replacing.

Later, while constructing the light fitting, I realized how stupid it was to stay in short trousers. I hadn't been bothered changing after coming home from the gym. Globs of molten tin-lead alloy stay hot for a number of seconds, even when they splash and spread out on a bare thigh. In the short time between landing and being frantically brushed off (complete with sound effects) they burn enough to raise welts. I've applied a burn gel and soft bandage, but it still hurts.

Satisfied, little sadists?