| Blogs / Ramblings
1/29/2009 - Trapped In An Elevator
1/27/2009 - The Close Call
1/14/2009 - Tom McCoy
12/23/2008 - Political Science
12/09/2008 - Grinch
10/08/2008 - 30th Birthday
7/25/2008 - Installing Blinds
6/03/2008 - The Great Wall
5/30/2008 - Rudeness
5/22/2008 - Sick Days At Work
4/09/2008 - Home Warrantee
3/31/2008 - Animal Crackers
3/17/2008 - Green Beverage Day
3/05/2008 - I Should Write A Novel
2/26/2008 - The Evil Oak
2/18/2008 - A Tribute To My iPod
2/11/2008 - Criminology Textbooks
2/04/2008 - The Surgery
1/31/2008 - WDW Marathon Part V
1/25/2008 - WDW Marathon Part IV
1/19/2008 - WDW Marathon Part III
1/17/2008 - WDW Marathon Part II
1/16/2008 - WDW Marathon Part I
1/12/2008 - Marathon Details
1/09/2008 - Running From My Run
1/04/2008 - The Holidays
1/01/2008 - First Blog
The Close Call
Whenever you move into a new place, you have a number of firsts: first burned out light bulb, first broken window... the first visit from the fire department. . . . If I cleaned up after myself, my house would've burned down by now. True story.
Last week, Shannon needed to find some important paperwork. Since I made a
huge mess a few weeks earlier, she was unable to do so. As a result, she ordered
copies of the paperwork rush-delivered to the house.
I know you don't care, but stay with me...
Yesterday morning, she took an early lunch in anticipation of the arrival of
her package. Since the delivery window started at 10:30, she came home far earlier
than usual.
Upon walking into the back hallway, there was an odd smell. Odd even for our
house.
She called me at my desk. "Jeff, there's an odd smell in our house."
"Odd even for our house?"
"Yes. It smells like burning rubber."
She then told me all about the burning-chemicalish smell. "It's not a
hair dryer, it's not my flat iron, and I don't think it's the heater."
"Are you sure it's not the heater?"
"What did I just say?"
"You don't think it's the heater."
"Then why would you ask if I'm sure it's not the heater?"
I won't bore you with the details of the rest of our telephone conversation,
since it makes me look bad and has little to do with my mess. Regardless, I
decided that I would come home for lunch.
Upon arriving at the house, Shannon informed me that she had found the source
of the smell. I don't want to get too technical, so I'll just say that the little
knobby thingy that controls the ceiling fan was smoking. In addition, our wireless
DSL router (plugged into the same wall) had stopped working.
Did I mention it smelled bad?
Because I wasn't a bonehead (at that exact moment), I cut the power off with
the circuit breaker.
Going outside for fresh air, Shannon and I carefully debated our next step.
"What do we do? Do we call the fire department?" Sighing and groaning
at the same time (a sound you have to hear to believe), we decided that yes,
we would call the fire department.
"What about our messy house?" She asked.
"I'm sure they won't even notice."
When they picked up the phone, Shannon explained that the power had been cut
off and the problem was both minor and under control.
"Don't go back in the house. We'll be there right away."
It didn't take long for the sirens to echo in the distance. Gradually, the
sound got louder and louder, as Shannon and I exchanged worried looks.
The arrival of two large firetrucks, and one medium-sized firetruck, was quite
exciting. The sight of five guys in full gear, axes in hand, was even more exciting.
They ran up the driveway, the one in front was first to speak.
"Hey baby, where's the fire?" Was what I remember him saying.
We explained the full situation and led them inside. Since the house was a
wee bit of a mess (duh), this involved moving around boxes full of paper (I
believe the firemen called the boxes "kindling").
Shannon took them to the back room and showed the problem area. From the living
room, I could hear one fireman exclaim to another, "I don't smell anything,
Bill, do you?"
They were just about to give up when one of them noticed just how hot the wall
was. They pried the controls for the ceiling fan off (using a screwdriver they
somehow stole from my closet), and discovered a small scorch mark on the wall.
After thoroughly examining the small amounts of attic that we do have, they
determined that the entire problem was limited to the melted fan control box.
Although the device was clearly in the OFF position, it had corroded to the
point that a connection was still being made. This was bad. If Shannon had arrived
at the house just 20 minutes later, there might not have been a house at all.
From the back room, a fireman, still in full gear with the ax in hand, shouted
to the guy in the bedroom. "Hey Bill check this out, there's another one
in this room." The group of firemen wandered into the other bedroom and
gawked at the ancient relic on the wall. Yes, we have three of these switches
throughout the house. It is worth noting that, although I'm not really sure
any of the firefighters were named "Bill," both Shannon and myself
tell the story using that name.
They advised us to change out the fan controls before turning the power back
on. For some reason, they thought the boxes might be a fire hazard.
On their way out, I apologized for the condition of the house. Of course, it
was a mess. We would have tidied up, but then Shannon never would have needed
to come home early, and that would mean more work for them.
I explained this to one fireman. "Oh, that's okay. We hear that all the
time."
At the exact moment, another fireman was looking around and saying to Shannon,
"So... it looks like you weren't expecting any company today."
I'm sure Shannon was both proud and thankful at that moment.
They left in a slightly more peaceful manner than the way they arrived. The
DSL? Turns out that everything worked fine once we plugged the phone cord back
into the wall (that apparently helps).
All in all, the event was embarrassing, exciting, and the closest I've come
yet to losing everything I've ever bought (including this computer). It was
the perfect lunch hour.
Shannon may have had a hand in saving the house, but as a lesson well learned,
I will never again clean up after myself.
Jeff's moral for the day: If you know an affordable, licensed electrician,
who likes to inspect household wiring, you should tell your good friend Jeff.
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