I was originally going to write about the families, or familias, of the ancient Romans. I had planned on talking about the different roles between the boys and the girls. I was going to note the differences and similarities to today's families in society compared to theirs. How the oldest male was the head of the household, how he could sell, kill or emancipate his children (or anyone in his household for that matter) at will. How it was less of a family and more of a household, because there was not only he, his wife and their children living there, but his grown and married sons, their wives and children, servants, slaves and clerks. I was also going to talk about their schooling and their marriages and how the women had no rights. Yet, I couldn't. Every time I tried, I would come to a block and not be able to think anymore. There were no words dancing at my fingertips, I had all the research in front of me and yet couldn't think of a single thing to say that I would consider being significant, or unique. So I"m not going to write about that.
Certain events that happened to me last night caused me to change my mind. I am going to talk about something completely different, yet on topic. What caused me to do this, was a fire. .
My house almost burnt down last night. It certainly caught on fire, at least parts of it. What started this all was a spark from a butane lighter that my brother, Wayne, was refilling. We were spending some time down in his room with his friend Rick, and he had been oil painting earlier in the day. He had a full cup of paint lacquer on the rug, but didn't think anything of it. Suddenly, the fumes from the lacquer caught fire and shot down to the cup, which caught on fire as well. At first I started laughing and just sort of stood there, not knowing what to do. It was a small fire, and we thought we could stomp it out with our feet. Only then someone accidentally kicked over the cup, which spread onto the rug even more causing the fire to follow.