As we are getting closer to the birth of the baby and getting things in order, I needed to start brewing post-partum teas to keep in the fridge. I measured out all of my herbs and put them to boil and then set the stove to simmer. For next half hour, I went about my household business until something started to smell. I went into the kitchen and saw that the burner had gone out but that the room smelled like gas. To turn off the burner I would need to restart the flame and was concerned about blowing up, so I called David at work. David immediately told me to open the windows and call the fire department. I called (their non-emergency line) and they said not to touch anything, they would send someone over to check it out, but that until they got there I should wait outside. (I would have preferred to wait outside with the cats, but their carriers are locked up, so they were shut in a room with open windows.) After a whirlwind five minutes of changing clothes, brushing my hair, frantically putting breakfast and lunch dishes in the dishwasher, and picking up David's shoes, I got outside just in time to meet the fire SUV. My first thought was, "Great. They only sent one guy not in uniform in a truck. I'm glad they didn't overdo it." However, then the giant firetrucks pulled up and men started streaming into the house.
As it turns out, I could have just turned the stove off like normal. I was however told that our stove needed to be repaired because the flame shouldn't go out on simmer. That was a relief...as was not blowing up.
The sad part is that this is not the first time I have called the fire department in the concern that I would die from gas. At least this time my house actually has a gas connection. For those of you who don't know the original story, read below.
*******************
Taken from an e-mail sent to my mother in 2005. Allison was my roommate; Clyde was her boyfriend.
The 5:30 a.m. Wake-Up Call
It is a quiet, peaceful 5:30 a.m. I'm in a deep sleep with at least another hour of sleep coming to me. I am horribly awoken by a terrible and persistent alarm. It is not broken like a fire alarm, and it didn't beep like a battery that needed changed.
I follow my first instinct and roll back over with a pillow over my head, but I can still, obviously, hear it. So, I decide that whatever fire it is needs to go away, because I need to go back to sleep. I turn on a light, and then I look for a few minutes all over my room for a robe. I was merely in my night gown and didn't want Clyde to see it should we evacuate next to each other.
I finally find my robe, put it on, think about gathering possessions, but then remember the rules of fire safety and tell myself I wasted enough time with the robe.
I throw open the door--neglecting the first rule of fire safety that would tell me to feel the door first, which I did remember after the fact (Remember, a fire typically doubles in size every three seconds in a house). Upon opening the door, I see that Allison and Clyde, too, are stumbling out of her room.(Allison was in only a t-shirt, and Clyde is clutching a towel in front of himself--obviously, they were not as concerned about the scantily clad evacuation as I was).
We all stare at the alarm in the hallway and the blatant lack of roaring fire with amazement. This was the most fervent alarm I had ever heard (regardless of the fact that it took me at least three minutes before leaving the room, and I even looked at my hair in the mirror--Hey, there was no smoke.) Anyway, there was no fire.
First thought: it is one of those tricky new invisible fires.
Second thought: it is on another floor.
We all strain our ears to hear if there are other alarms going off. (We're about seven minutes into the action now.) I think I hear one. Clyde thinks he hears one. Allison thinks the sound is just bouncing around. Allison is currently in the story trying to reach the button on the alarm, and Clyde has thought better of his vestments and goes to put on boxers. (I would have made a slightly more covering choice, but I wasn't given an option in this case.)
Allison is not reaching the button, Clyde is changing, and I run to get a chair. Mind you, no one has gone downstairs yet. I come in with the chair, Clyde rips the unit off of the wall, and then proceeds to run downstairs. Allison and I look at each confused and then see that the alarm was connected to the breaker.
We realize that there is nothing wrong with the battery (even though they only make an occasional annoying beep when they need to be changed). Clyde clods back up the stairs and tells us that he flipped the breaker (I don't know why, it must have been for effect and to screw up my clocks). He also tells us there is no fire in the apartment (again, unless it is invisible).
We all strain our ears to hear if there are other alarms going off. (We're about seven minutes into the action now.) I think I hear one. Clyde thinks he hears one. Allison thinks the sound is just bouncing around. Allison is currently in the story trying to reach the button on the alarm, and Clyde has thought better of his vestments and goes to put on boxers. (I would have made a slightly more covering choice, but I wasn't given an option in this case.)
Allison is not reaching the button, Clyde is changing, and I run to get a chair. Mind you, no one has gone downstairs yet. I come in with the chair, Clyde rips the unit off of the wall, and then proceeds to run downstairs. Allison and I look at each confused and then see that the alarm was connected to the breaker.
We realize that there is nothing wrong with the battery (even though they only make an occasional annoying beep when they need to be changed). Clyde clods back up the stairs and tells us that he flipped the breaker (I don't know why, it must have been for effect and to screw up my clocks). He also tells us there is no fire in the apartment (again, unless it is invisible).
“What could this mean?” we think.
Suddenly, I know the answer. The deadly killer: Carbon monoxide! I tell them of my stroke of genius.
Allison: “What do we do?”
Liv: “Well, if it is carbon monoxide, we need to leave the house.”
Clyde: “Is this even a carbon monoxide detector?”
He then inspects it. Clyde: “Sure.”
Liv: “Well, I don’t know for sure, but I am going to call the fire department.”
I go downstairs, fetch the phone book, and look up the fire department—which took me like three tries. I don’t know why it wasn’t on the front page. I call them, and it is an automated message saying to call 911. So, I do. I go outside, because Clyde has tried to reconnect the alarm, and it is making that piercing noise. It is rather warm out, and I begin to rethink the robe.
911: “911. Do you have an emergency?”
Liv: “Well, probably not, and if I don’t, well, I’m going to feel really stupid.”
I then recount the entire story, minus all of the details about clothing and not touching the door, etc. She says that a truck is coming over. A firetruck! With flashing lights! I mean, I realize that they, the firemen, would probably only be in jeans and FD polos, but it was very exciting.
I run inside and relay the excellent news. Clyde and Allison, too, are excited. A flurry of activity happens as we realize we need to prepare for these guests. We all three run up stairs and get dressed and not just dressed, dressed-up. We then come downstairs and begin moving dishes and making our home look, well, less fire-prone. We’re all very excited and start talking about finding a camera and taking pictures with the firemen. Then, I realize something horrible. I am short of breath.
Liv: “Guys, are you finding it hard to breathe?”
Clyde: “ You know, I am. My breath is shallow.”
Liv: “It’s the carbon monoxide. It IS the silent killer!”
Allison: “You guys are not, you just think your breathing is shallow.”
We think about this and realize that she is probably correct, but this does not stop us from lying down on the sofas and lamenting the end of our lives. Then, we hear it—SIRENS!!! Oh happy day (minus the sneaky and silent deaths we are about to suffer, although probably not suffer because in the movie Sabrina with Audrey Hepburn when she tried to kill herself with carbon monoxide, she just fell asleep)! We see flashing lights coming in the windows and all run out onto the porch. It’s a fire truck! Then, the best part, real firemen are getting out AND---they’re in their gear like there was a fire!!! They come up to the door, but only two of them though.
Suddenly, I know the answer. The deadly killer: Carbon monoxide! I tell them of my stroke of genius.
Allison: “What do we do?”
Liv: “Well, if it is carbon monoxide, we need to leave the house.”
Clyde: “Is this even a carbon monoxide detector?”
He then inspects it. Clyde: “Sure.”
Liv: “Well, I don’t know for sure, but I am going to call the fire department.”
I go downstairs, fetch the phone book, and look up the fire department—which took me like three tries. I don’t know why it wasn’t on the front page. I call them, and it is an automated message saying to call 911. So, I do. I go outside, because Clyde has tried to reconnect the alarm, and it is making that piercing noise. It is rather warm out, and I begin to rethink the robe.
911: “911. Do you have an emergency?”
Liv: “Well, probably not, and if I don’t, well, I’m going to feel really stupid.”
I then recount the entire story, minus all of the details about clothing and not touching the door, etc. She says that a truck is coming over. A firetruck! With flashing lights! I mean, I realize that they, the firemen, would probably only be in jeans and FD polos, but it was very exciting.
I run inside and relay the excellent news. Clyde and Allison, too, are excited. A flurry of activity happens as we realize we need to prepare for these guests. We all three run up stairs and get dressed and not just dressed, dressed-up. We then come downstairs and begin moving dishes and making our home look, well, less fire-prone. We’re all very excited and start talking about finding a camera and taking pictures with the firemen. Then, I realize something horrible. I am short of breath.
Liv: “Guys, are you finding it hard to breathe?”
Clyde: “ You know, I am. My breath is shallow.”
Liv: “It’s the carbon monoxide. It IS the silent killer!”
Allison: “You guys are not, you just think your breathing is shallow.”
We think about this and realize that she is probably correct, but this does not stop us from lying down on the sofas and lamenting the end of our lives. Then, we hear it—SIRENS!!! Oh happy day (minus the sneaky and silent deaths we are about to suffer, although probably not suffer because in the movie Sabrina with Audrey Hepburn when she tried to kill herself with carbon monoxide, she just fell asleep)! We see flashing lights coming in the windows and all run out onto the porch. It’s a fire truck! Then, the best part, real firemen are getting out AND---they’re in their gear like there was a fire!!! They come up to the door, but only two of them though.
Fireman: “Where’s the alarm?”
Liv: “Upstairs, but we took it off the wall.”
The firemen charge upstairs while I follow and then shut bedroom doors, so they don’t think they are rescuing the type of people who have unmade beds at 5:50 a.m. Then, I see that Clyde has left the toilet seat up, and I am not pleased about that, but I have bigger fish to fry at the moment.
Fireman: “Where is your gas valve?”
Liv: “Gas? We don’t have gas, we’re all electric.”
FM: “If you don’t have gas, there is no carbon monoxide.”
Liv: “Oh. So, it is an invisible fire?” He doesn’t quite get the humor.
FM: “Let’s hope not. Actually, your smoke detector is just old. Even though it’s hooked to the breaker, they still expire. You just need to call your landlord and have them replace it.”
Then, just like in the Bible, there was much fist wagging, hair pulling, and grinding of teeth as Allison and I realize that there was no real emergency. The firemen then exit as I apologize for not having anything more exciting for them to do.
FM: “Just because we’re firemen, that doesn’t mean we like fire. These are the kind of calls we like to have, not fires where people can get hurt.” (Wasn’t that just like a PSA? It was perfect.)
Then they left, and we realized we missed all of our photo opportunities.
Liv: “Upstairs, but we took it off the wall.”
The firemen charge upstairs while I follow and then shut bedroom doors, so they don’t think they are rescuing the type of people who have unmade beds at 5:50 a.m. Then, I see that Clyde has left the toilet seat up, and I am not pleased about that, but I have bigger fish to fry at the moment.
Fireman: “Where is your gas valve?”
Liv: “Gas? We don’t have gas, we’re all electric.”
FM: “If you don’t have gas, there is no carbon monoxide.”
Liv: “Oh. So, it is an invisible fire?” He doesn’t quite get the humor.
FM: “Let’s hope not. Actually, your smoke detector is just old. Even though it’s hooked to the breaker, they still expire. You just need to call your landlord and have them replace it.”
Then, just like in the Bible, there was much fist wagging, hair pulling, and grinding of teeth as Allison and I realize that there was no real emergency. The firemen then exit as I apologize for not having anything more exciting for them to do.
FM: “Just because we’re firemen, that doesn’t mean we like fire. These are the kind of calls we like to have, not fires where people can get hurt.” (Wasn’t that just like a PSA? It was perfect.)
Then they left, and we realized we missed all of our photo opportunities.
*****
I wasn't going to let that opportunity get by me twice, but all I had the chance to take today was a photo as they drove away.
3 comments:
Oh how I miss those Timber Ridge days!!! LOL...full of fire trucks and police cars...with neighbor's abusing their kids and crack-whores living across the street! Wow!
I cannot tell you how much I laughed recounting this story! And I vividly remember that night although it is interesting to read it from your persepective, which mind you is pretty vivid considering how long ago that was.
I don't think your rights should be revoked you are just cautious...and there is nothing wrong with that!
Congrats on remembering the picture this time! Although I was so looking forward to the strapping firemen... =]
I certainly didn't remember it in that much detail three years later. I just copy and pasted an e-mail that I sent to my mom from 2005 that I had saved in a folder.--Liv
"The apartment smells like gas!"
Everything in your apartment is electric.
And then there was that time you called the cops on Stockard Channing when she got that DUI.
Oh, and all those other times you called the cops.
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