I tuck the freshly washed mattress cover under the mattress and start to laugh. The burnt spot on one side is still there. No, not because my husband smoked in bed. That was a habit I cured him of when we were first married. No, it is a different story that happened some years ago.
I am a problem sleeper. It was not unusual for me to leave the bed and slip into the living room and read, which is exactly what I was doing at 3.00 a.m. Lost in its pages I nearly dropped my book when my husband stood across the room.
“Didn’t you hear those kids outside, acting up?” he asked.
Bewildered, I shook my head. Then realizing that the room was cold and he wasn’t that well, I knew I’d better get him settled down again.
I checked the back windows and couldn’t see a thing.
“Come on, let’s get back to bed.” I suggested, then walked into the bedroom. The electric blanket was lying askew so I went to straighten it and there was a sudden blue flash and a burnt smell.
“Get back”, I yelled and quickly pulled the plug at the bottom of the blanket. Then with strength I didn’t know I had I dragged the whole bed frame from the wall and pulled the electric cord from where it was plugged in.
Quickly I grabbed the electric blanket and threw it on the floor. Luckily it was not burning although there was a burn mark on it. The sheet came off next and below that the mattress cover. Both had the same burn mark on them.
Electric blankets had kept us warm for years but it was the last one that was brought into the house.
As I run my fingers over the small stain I remember the incident and laugh again and think of a piece of poetry I had memorized years before.
Now I lay me down to rest
Electric blanket across my chest
I pray my merciful creator
Protects the voltage regulator
So if I die before I wake
It’s not dear Lord, because I bake.
— Author unknown
Who was to know the prophecy in the verse was almost fulfilled the night our electric blanket nearly cremated us.
