Scraping wax from the blue thing

There's a kind of "Erkk, scritch, scritch, erkk" noise coming from the kitchen. I'm reading blogs on the PC in the dining room. The noise is starting to remind me of fingernails on blackboards.

"What'cha doin'?" I ask as sweetly as I can.

"Scraping wax from the blue thing," Herself replies, matter-of-factedly.

The blue thing is a bowl-shaped candle-holder, the type one fills with nice pebbles, water, then floating candles. We dispense with all but the candles because it looks nicer. In fact, we have a veritable temple to candles all over the sitting room. Sure it's only money burning every night, right?

"Did you hear Bush is now voted the worst president ever?" Herself asks me, between "scritch, scritch" noises.

"That's good."

"Yes it is."

I can hear the tinny sound of nightlights being dropped into bowls in the other room. At least the blue thing is now wax free.