I was throwing papers away in a box. A fire started in the box (hot stuff in papers created coals and sparks). My needlepoint canvas caught fire. I hit it with my hand to put it out. Then, I had a glove on. I got the fire out. Then I saw that my guitar was on fire, at the heads. I took a towel and smothered the fires. I noticed my banjo was lying on the floor under the guitars and was unharmed. I looked at it. Then I saw a fire place with a roll of butcher paper stuck in it (like my class is doing life-lines on). The paper was on fire. I took out things I didn't want to burn. Then a rack of clothes, lots of them, were beside the fireplace. I told my mother, "These are old and out of date. I think I'll throw them away." She was shocked. "You could fix them up." I said, "I hate to sew." She was more shocked and angry. "Why didn't you tell me that when I was younger? Then I wouldn't have bought you material and stuff," (that I had asked for). I said, "At that time I was trying to like it, but everything I sewed looked bad, seams were uneven, stitches were showing, zippers were uneven, etc." Lydia held up a mauve dress for a 1 yr old. She said, "Here, I've outgrown this, you can have it and maybe fix it." I said, "No, It won't fit me or my girls. I have no use for it." She was annoyed with me.