And not even because of the pun, which just hit me.
I got out of the shower sometime after 7pm, and smelled something cooking. I knew John was home, so I figured he was heating a pizza or something. Leisurely I put on my clothes, as B and I were heading to Target to look for a new dresser for my bedroom. When we were almost ready to leave, I walked into the kitchen to investigate the strong burning smell, which had gotten worse. The kitchen was lightly hazed with smoke and my eyes immediately began to burn. As I opened the door to the pantry/laundry room, white smoke billowed out of it. I couldn’t see inside at all.
Out came my phone. (”Uh, no you got the wrong number… This is 9-1… 2.”) Within two minutes, two fire trucks were here. We were standing outside, and three guys in bunker gear walked into the house, only to come immediately back out and put on respirators. Another truck showed up. After they had been here for 15 minutes or so, one of the firefighters walked over to us and said, “It’s something in the dryer.”
After another half-hour or so, spent conversing with neighbors about fires and college educations and whatnot, another firefighter came to tell us that the fire had been contained within the dryer. He said they moved the dryer out to the back yard and thoroughly drenched everything. They tested for heat in the walls and CO in the air, both of which they found to be within safe limits.
So we opened all the windows and doors and left John to watch things while we went to Target. I didn’t find a dresser I want, but I did buy six new towels, as all but one of my towels were what had burned in the dryer.
When we got back, Beau was expressing his extreme displeasure that his $90 shirt, which had been sitting on top of the dryer, was ruined. I was still just happy that the house hadn’t burned to the ground.
You still can’t walk around the kitchen for long without feeling like your eyeballs are on fire. We should stay here and leave the doors open, but the three of us (John, B and I) are going to go see a movie.
Pictures, courtesy of B, are forthcoming. We’re all OK, though not a single one of the 47 firefighters who showed up could tell you that since they never asked.
I’d like to say something poignant or witty in reference to the fact that I’m a firefighter’s son, but I got nothin’. Like I said, we and the house are OK, and I’m thankful for that.