Monday, May 28, 2012

All my fault

This week's fiasco began with me trying to be nice and fix something to eat.

As I pulled the frozen pizza out of the oven, I dropped it and half the toppings slid off into the bottom of the oven, on the oven door and down into that space between. What a mess. And all my fault.

We waited for it to cool, and between us Davey and I managed to get most of the mess out. But the oven looked cruddy, so later in the evening I decided to run the self-cleaning cycle. That cooks at very high temps to burn all the oven crud to ashes.

Naturally there was a little smoke, in spite of running every exhaust fan we own. And naturally it permeated the house. And naturally both smoke alarms went off. All my fault.

Here's where it becomes a little less clear. Davey pulled the battery smoke alarm down and took the battery out. No sweat. The hard-wired alarm, on the other hand, was a little more problematical.

First Davey looked. No shut-off button. So he pulled and twisted, but the smoke alarm kept screaming at the top of its little lungs and wouldn't release from the ceiling. Of course he did what anyone of the Y-chromosome persuasion would have, according to my dear friend Enny. He pulled harder.

The smoke alarm came down and disconnected itself from the wiring with a big spark. Two wire nuts dropped to the floor. Oh, shit! Live wires up in the ceiling box.

Again, Davey did the Y-chromosome thing and grabbed the nearest wire. With his fingers. Holy crap! More sparks and a flash.

As I stood there shrieking and cursing, he walked down the stairs. Oh, good, I thought, he's going to turn the power off.

He came back with a step stool and a pair of needle-nosed pliers, and he grabbed that wire and yanked it down, sparks flying everywhere, complete with smoke and even flames.

We're lucky the house didn't catch fire, though there are a couple of scorch marks on the rug.

"Are you okay?" I asked him. "You didn't get shocked, did you?"

He grinned and held up the pliers. "Insulated handles."

All this was two days ago. The scorched smell is almost gone from the house thanks to open windows and lots of Febreeze spray air freshener. And today Davey turned the power off and installed a brand new hard-wired smoke alarm.

With a shut-off button.

And the whole thing was all my fault.


10 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. It's so nice to have friends...

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  2. Delightful comedy of errors. Who says reality isn't as amazing as fiction?

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    1. Thanks, Jeff! And it's all 100% true. I didn't even have to embellish this one. :)

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  3. Oh, hardly!

    Davey goes in the penalty box. You're entitled to dinner out. Glad it wasn't more serious.

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    1. I'll tell him you said so. And I was the last one that almost set the house on fire, a couple years ago. I was putting lights on the Christmas tree and plugged one strand into the next and the plug sparked and burst into flames! I yanked until it came unplugged and blew the fire out. Lucky for us it was an artificial tree, not a real one. I went out and bought all new lights the next day.

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  4. "Oh, good, I thought, he's going to turn the power off."

    Oh man, you make me *snort*, babe, really, eh!
    :)) :)) :))

    BTW, love Davey's t-shirt. Very apropos, from the timing, to the reenactment of "bombs bursting in air..."

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    1. Merci, Enny babe. I picked that picture because of the shirt.

      And thanks for the Y-chromosome comment. :*

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  5. Well, since you are having company in a few weeks, I wouldn't recommend burning the house down. And working smoke alarms always make the guests feel more at home.
    (who needs to write fiction, after all?)

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    1. We'll try not to burn it down before you get here, babe! No guarantees, tho. :)

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