Picture yourself lying in bed on a Sunday morning (at your parents' house, because you no longer have an apartment): the distant sounds of NPR, the smell of brewing coffee, the smell of smoke from the fireplace....the sound of smoke alarms, then the sight of
lots of smoke from a fire. Then the realization: shit, there's something on fire. That something being: the chimney and fireplace. Cue the call to the fire department (from a neighbor who saw flames leaping out of the chimney), the arrival of 3 (three!) firetrucks and a police car, and an improptu gathering of neighbors on the street wearing sweatshirts and pajama pants and wondering what the heck was going on. I can't decide if it's good or bad that my second thought, after
it's smoky: we should get out of here, was
god it looks cold out, I wonder where my fuzzy shoes are? Then I spent a minute in the mess of boxes and open suitcases that is my bedroom attempting to locate said shoes and my down vest. Long story short: the chimney and fireplace caught fire and was put out in about an hour. Apparently, the floor of the ash pit of the fireplace was made out of wood.
Hello?? I've heard stories about the insane level of cheapness of the person that built this house (an uncle of a current neighbor, I think), but I think lining an ash pit with wood is taking cheap to a new level. The fire department said we were really lucky the living room didn't catch on fire. It's a little disconcerting to go from the normal lazy Sunday of coffee and the
new york times to being happy that your house is standing. Although, really, I guess we should always be happy for stuff like an intact house on normal days; though obviously no one really thinks about that sort of thing on a daily basis. It was pretty nice seeing all my neighbors, some of whom I've known for my entire life. And lord knows I enjoy watching the firemen parade around with their equipment. And I was also enjoying taking zillions of pictures with my new camera (that I love). One fireman said, "Are you from the
Reporter?" and I said, "eh?" and he said, "oh, there's a new girl who works for the
Reporter," and I looked down at my blue fleece pajama pants with the white snowflakes and thought,
hm, she must dress casually. So aside from the fact that my parents almost got to downsize real quick and now the house smells like soot and is covered in a fine white chemical powder, this has been quite an interesting (and dare I say enjoyable?) day. And the fleet of cleanup crews arrives tomorrow.
Picture yourself lying in bed on a Sunday morning (at your parents' house, because you no longer have an apartment): the distant sounds of NPR, the smell of brewing coffee, the smell of smoke from the fireplace....the sound of smoke alarms, then the sight of lots of smoke from a fire. Then the realization: shit, there's something on fire. That something being: the chimney and fireplace. Cue the call to the fire department (from a neighbor who saw flames leaping out of the chimney), the arrival of 3 (three!) firetrucks and a police car, and an improptu gathering of neighbors on the street wearing sweatshirts and pajama pants and wondering what the heck was going on. I can't decide if it's good or bad that my second thought, after it's smoky: we should get out of here, was god it looks cold out, I wonder where my fuzzy shoes are? Then I spent a minute in the mess of boxes and open suitcases that is my bedroom attempting to locate said shoes and my down vest. Long story short: the chimney and fireplace caught fire and was put out in about an hour. Apparently, the floor of the ash pit of the fireplace was made out of wood. Hello?? I've heard stories about the insane level of cheapness of the person that built this house (an uncle of a current neighbor, I think), but I think lining an ash pit with wood is taking cheap to a new level. The fire department said we were really lucky the living room didn't catch on fire. It's a little disconcerting to go from the normal lazy Sunday of coffee and the new york times to being happy that your house is standing. Although, really, I guess we should always be happy for stuff like an intact house on normal days; though obviously no one really thinks about that sort of thing on a daily basis. It was pretty nice seeing all my neighbors, some of whom I've known for my entire life. And lord knows I enjoy watching the firemen parade around with their equipment. And I was also enjoying taking zillions of pictures with my new camera (that I love). One fireman said, "Are you from the Reporter?" and I said, "eh?" and he said, "oh, there's a new girl who works for the Reporter," and I looked down at my blue fleece pajama pants with the white snowflakes and thought, hm, she must dress casually. So aside from the fact that my parents almost got to downsize real quick and now the house smells like soot and is covered in a fine white chemical powder, this has been quite an interesting (and dare I say enjoyable?) day. And the fleet of cleanup crews arrives tomorrow.
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