I am fascinated by fire. I can strike match after match, holding each one as the wood warps and blackens, testing how long I can wait until I have to shake the fire out. I love the smell of the sulphur and the way it seems to singe my nose hairs and the way the odor lingers in the air after the flame in gone. It is one of the few situations in which I actually enjoy the thrill of danger.
But I have small children and I can't be setting that kind of example or leave us open to that kind of danger. So I only light matches when my husband's had dairy.