So last night, determinedly nosey but sketchy furball decided to tactically unass the computer area last night, just ahead of the arm swipe aimed in her direction, but as a parting gift, she managed to deftly leap on, flip, and dump most of my steaming about-to-be-eaten stew into my lap. The little $#!^.
I haven't danced like that since college, scraped most of it off me, and removed the garments decorated and soaked in water and sauce that were well north of comfortable temp in short order, while pouring the coldest tap water I had on the pain.
And then sat for most of 10 hours or so with ice packs, changed out regularly, to assuage the pain from what I'd assumed at the time to be simple first-degree burns to thumb, abdomen, and thigh. I suppose I should be somewhat thankful it missed my, erm, lap. Crikey. (Note to self: obtain more cool gel ice packs.)
The mystery was explained after the pain subsided today, as one by one, a number of nice fluid-filled blisters have arisen, informing me that it hurt so effing much because it was a number of small second-degree burns.
So please, trust me when I tell you to get the heat out of any burn as fast and comprehensively as you can. If I hadn't piled on baggies full of ice cubes and water rapidly, and kept cold packs there until the pain mostly subsided, I have no doubt I would have two solid giant blisters instead of a few speck-sized ones, and it would have hurt a lot more than it does now, and probably still would.
And it would then be open season on the possessed little demon responsible.
Shower water temperature will be a rather personally interesting decision for a few days.