I’ve just burned all the way to the bottom of a scented candle.

At the risk of sounding trite, it’s bitter sweet. It’s bitter because it means my waxy pumpkin pie dream is over. But it’s an achievement in a way, because I have a tendency to be too frugal with candles. I have a candle from four years ago smaller than your average lunchbox popper that is only halfway through. There’s some innate aversion inside me screaming at me not to waste them, which makes me worry I might be turning into my father.

However, I’m trying to suppress my desire to save. And what with this looming nuclear conflict, the fact that there’s an enquiry into the current “crisis” of journalism and that whole climate change drama, I’m thinking my future is too unstable not burn expensive scented candles. I may not actually like coffee enough to buy it and I make much better avo toast at home than those snooty cafes, but scented candles may just be the reason I can’t afford a home right now (LOL since moving to Sydney I can’t afford candles either).

Also, I want to use the candle container for other things. I like the idea of being able to store unnecessary items in unnecessary glass containers which project that I’m a classy woman who values herself but wouldn’t hate a bit of financial backing on account of what some may call “unsound economic decision-making” (which I think sends the right message to the right acutely-analytical potential suitor/silent partner who finds himself using my bathroom for some reason).

Anyway, the fact that I’ve burned a candle all the way down means I’ve dedicated a fair hunk of time to relax from the stresses of my job, where I spend most of my day being sarcastic and watching cute animal videos (I know, tough gig, right?). It means I’ve really dedicated time to taking a journey to me.

To cut a long story short (something I absolutely did not do here), after my candle was burnt up, I turned it upside down and discovered there were a bunch of rules written on the base that I had no idea about. And because I’m scrounging around for blog post idea, I figured you’d like to read my reactions to them (because I don’t know, maybe you’re waiting in a long queue and your Instagram isn’t refreshing or something).

Never use water to extinguish a candle: that seems obvious. This is a candle, not a fire on a medieval thatched roof house.

Ensure wicks are trimmed to 7mm: I’m guessing this warning is purely for legal purposes to negate any responsibility of the manufacturer in the case of a fire and everything, but come on. Do they really expect people to whip out a ruler, measure their wicks and trim them like bonsai trees?! And how did they come up with the weirdly specific length of 7mm?

Never burn the candle for less than an hour or more than four hours: I understand the one hour rule, because you deserve more time for yourself. Don’t just settle for a lousy 15 minutes, go the whole hog – both figuratively and literally, because burning a nice scented candle while cutting thick, salty slices off your own personal leg of ham sounds like a damn good way to take the edge off a rough day.

The four-hour rule is a problem though. You shouldn’t put a time limit on treating yourself. This is especially true if your version of treating yourself involves finishing off the leg of ham. That takes time (but please seek medical advice beforehand).

Never move a burning candle. Extinguish and ensure wax is solid before handling: True that. Especially if you have carpets and don’t enjoy intense burning sensations on your skin.

Burn candle on an appropriate flat heat-resistant surface: Again, good advice. Resting a candle on a bean bag is a silly idea.

Avoid using in drafty areas, near and open window, air duct or fan: That would defeat the entire purpose of having lit a scented candle. The whole idea is to Dutch oven yourself; closing off all nooks, crannies or entry ways where other people can come in and spoil your solitude. You want to trap this fine-smelling candle fart in wherever you are to mask the scent of reality and make yourself believe, if only for a short while, that you don’t live in a total shithole. So yeah, keep that bloody window closed.

Burn within sight: Or make sure you keep a nose out for the smell of smoke. Because without my sense of smell, I would have lost the rustic vintage ladder I use instead of a bedside table because I am both frugal and a design queen. Now said ladder has a singe mark, but that only adds to the charm. So I guess only leave your candle unattended on salvaged novelty furniture.

Keep away from things that catch fire: But you can leave it by your hopes and dreams, because they went up in flames years ago.

Keep away from children: Excellent safety advice.