Sometimes a comb isn't just a comb...

I almost burned down my house today. The GFI in the master bedroom got tripped for whatever reason sometimes yesterday/last night. I went to dry my hair this afternoon and no electricity. To reset the GFI you have to push the reset button in the bathroom downstairs. I just gave up on dry hair and went down to get ready for soccer practice. So I wouldn't forget later, on my way out the door I pushed reset.

I came home to the most horrid smell... the hair dryer was on the entire time I was gone... sitting next to a comb. The comb is half melted and the house smells like burnt plastic.

I'm thankful nothing more horrible happened than a ruined comb, honestly I am. But the comb was special. When my mom died it was the first thing of hers I claimed. I don't know why. It's just a comb, but for some reason I just liked having that comb.