Chickens in the Basement

I love to write and I love to laugh. When I write, I get to the point quick. My stories would fit on the back of a postcard. They usually make me chuckle. And you know what they say, "It's all about me!"

Monday, September 7, 2009

Not My Fault (This Time)

Tonight, we took advantage of the beautiful weather and ate dinner on our covered back porch. Rain fell softly. Riley Dog watched on hopefully. For once, both boys complemented me on a yummy dinner (chicken from Trader Joe's and fried okra from my garden...I did have to cook the chicken).

When the boys finished up, they went inside to their various obsessions. Tony and I sat on the porch enjoying the quiet. We heard beeping coming from inside, but couldn't figure out where it was coming from. When it didn't stop, we opened the door to discover the kitchen filled with smoke and the fire alarm blaring.

Quickly, I went through my electronic list...I cut off both eyes on the stove; I recall turning off the iron in my sewing room; Tony had called the electrician earlier today because the AC upstairs wasn't working; what else had been used? In a panic, I didn't notice the smoke coming from the toaster. Who put something in the toaster? I hit the release button on the toaster, and two bricks of charcoal popped up. There was so much smoke we could hardly see, but, THANK GOD, no flames!

The alarm continued to blare. It took a while for me to remember I could punch in the code to silence it. Since there was so much smoke, the alarm refused to be silent for long. It would hold it's breath for 60 seconds then scream again. The alarm system is connected to our phone, so I couldn't get a call to go through to 911 to cancel the fire trucks. I retrieved my cell phone from the car and finally made the call. They would try to intercept. Finally, the alarm company called. We assured them we were all fine and to cancel.

Windows and doors open, fans sucking out the smoke, children calming down, my heart still racing, we met on the front porch for some fresh air. Then, that unmistakable sound, a diesel engine coming up the road with red lights flashing. They didn't turn on the sirens this time! I guess they recognized the house number and knew we had cried wolf a few times before.

I met the guys at the end of the driveway and let them know we were okay. I asked if they had any ideas on getting the smoke out. Their faces lit up! Bring the truck on up the driveway. They pulled out a huge gas-powered fan, closed all of the windows and doors and got it running at the front door. Once the air pressure built up in the house, they opened the garage door and all of the smoke blew out of the house. No magic tricks for the smell, though. One of the guys suggested keeping a bottle of Fabreeze handy. My Mom called in the middle of all the action and insisted I call her back when things calmed down. I made sure she knew that I had nothing to do with this Stony Hill Volunteer Fire Department visit!

With all of the dramas calmed, one of the three firemen said he had been to the house before when I burned the steaks. (Riley Dog ate the steaks off of the table on the back porch while we were talking to the firemen!) Who was making toast? Tony! NOT ME! YEAH!

I called Mom back. She wanted to know if the fire department was like the courts. You know how the courts send an alcoholic to rehab...wonder if the fire department will send a chronic burner to cooking school? Bet you didn't know that being a smart-ass is hereditary!


Kate Spike and Her KatS said...

You guys are hilarious! The fire guys probably love coming out there anyway. Febreze works SOMETIMES (doesn't do such a great job on dog smell in a truck cab, trust me).

Mary said...

Thank God you didn't burn the house down.....TONY!!!

Anna, never a dull moment at your place.......what should we look forward to in the future?

That Riley dog sure is well fed - I love love my toast dark and crisp, but not on fire!!!

Take care dear one.....seriously!