I have a wood-burning fireplace in my new house and with the recent cold weather a roaring fire is just what Fire Marshall Bill ordered. Of course, I tried real wood because “you just gotta use real wood or you’re not getting a real fire-place experience.”

But . . .

Wood is way too high maintenance and more needy and desperate for attention than those Kardashian chicks. It constantly wanted something from me: gathering and chopping and building and stoking and tending and cleaning. Not to mention the stroking of its fire-y ego with how amazing its roariness is or it would billow smoke into the room.

Jerk.

I don’t need those kind of hassles.

When it comes to fire, I want it to just take care of itself like it does in the wild. You never see a fire asking to be stoked while it burns down a million hectare of trees. It just does what it does. I want that kind of self-sufficiency in my fireplace, but with less out-of-control burniness. So, I put an ad on Kijiji and Craig’s List.

Wanted: Low Maintenance Fire
Woman desperately seeking low maintenance fire for a small fire-place. Will transport.

A week or so later, my phone rang. Hoping it was about my ad, I answered it.

Me: Yello.

Firelog: Yo, are you the broad looking for a low maintenance fire?

Me: Yes, who’s this?

Firelog: I’m Firelog. I’m a combustible, chemical saturated firelog that makes it easy for lazy people to have a fire.

Me: Well, hello there, Mr. Firelog. Tell me more about yourself.

Firelog: Pretty simple, really. You just need to, you know, light my wrapper and then I will burn for hours. A brain-damaged monkey could do it and enjoy a nice fire. I’m sure you’ll have no problems.

Me: Colour me intrigued. Where can we meet up?

Firelog: How about the front entrance of Home Depot. It’s where me and my buddies hang out.

Me: Okay, I’ll see you there.

Twenty minutes later, Firelog and I are at my place. I remove Firelog from his box and gently place him, flap side up, on the fire grate. Nervously, I fumble with the lighter. It catches and touch the flame to Firelog’s wrapper.

Firelog: Pretty easy, huh. Ouch, that’s hot.

Me: Less talk, more burn-y, Firelog.

Firelog: Whatever stokes your fire, lady.

Me: Firelog, you complete me.