Sunday, November 2, 2014


Last night, I got a text in the middle of dinner out with friends.  Apparently, someone saw a picture on Facebook that my house was on fire.

Needless to say, I didn't get dinner.  I drove home at 90 MPH, praying that my house was NOT on fire, that my dogs were NOT dead.  About three blocks from the house, I could smell smoke.  Disgusting thick smoke heart just sank into my shoes.

When I pulled up in a screech of brakes, it was to fire.  Evidence of a rather impressive one in the yard, but the house seemed ok.  The lights were on.  The yard was crispy.  Oh, and no one was here.  No note on the door.  Nothing.

After running inside, calling the dogs and finding them smoke-stinky but ok, and then becoming a complete hyperventilating mess for a bit, it took a call to 911 to track down the fire chief.  And then, I had to make a call to the power folks because no one had called them, even though the meter box was scorched.  And then, there was a lot of wandering in the dark, crying and peering at things with a flashlight.

The lookie-loos started very early this morning.  One in particular (a truck of guys with a deer lamp at 1 AM) really stands out in my mind.

When it finally got light, I was able to take some pictures.  It still stinks of smoke outside.  My wood pile is gone.  My bike melted.  My little shed in a box is all warped, burned, and melted.  The side of my house melted.  A window cracked.  My neighbor's siding on a corner of his monsterous garage got warped.  But the sun still shines, the cats are happily wandering around, and everyone is ok.  The rest of it?  It's just a hot mess of burned crap.  I know it'll be ok...once I stop shaking.

It could have been so, so much worse.

1 comment:

  1. Oh my gosh Cris! SO glad it was not worse, but so sorry for you. I hope things can be repaired quickly for you.


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