My next-door duplex neighbor with whom I share a common wall called me last evening as I dined with my parents in Houston. He asked if there was any way he could get into my place because he thought he smelled burning plastic.
My mind started racing through all of the things that could be on fire. Maybe my cheap plastic bedside lamp purchased at Target in 1989 for $10 had gone up in flames. Or maybe it was the coffee maker. I forget to turn it off at least once a month.
He thought it odd that he wouldn't be hearing a smoke detector if something was on fire. I thought so too until I remembered I'd taken the battery out because mist from the shower was always setting it off. I started wondering if I shouldn't get him to bust a window and look inside or call the landlord. Then he walked outside and told me he no longer thought it was coming from inside my duplex. I thanked him for calling and told him to call me back if anything developed.
I haven't heard back from him yet, which most likely means everything is cool. Still, it's never a good feeling to get a call saying your house might be on fire.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
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1 comment:
Which part of town do you live in? I can keep my eye out for towering infernos. I do it all the time, anyway.
I'm constantly thinking I left the teapot on the stove with the gas on, which will a)cause a fire, b)kill my dog, c)make Terri R. hate me forever for burning down our building.
Good luck!
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