We certainly had some drama around here yesterday. More then either of us care for. I was down in the studio around noon, working on a monotype when I started to smell smoke. I thought that the fan I had in the window must be blowing in the scent of someone starting up their bbq or something like that. Really, for a while I didn't give it much thought at all. Then when the smell continued to grow stronger I came upstairs and asked Edgar if he smelled it too. I know this sounds like a very slow response to smelling smoke but I am neurotic about fire, I am always smelling smoke, checking the stove another time even after I have already gone to bed, unplugging lamps every time we leave the house, obsessing about whether or not the fire alarm batteries are working or if we left the house with the iron on. I drive Edgar crazy with this and so I try not to over react if I do think there may be a fire.
So we both wander outside. And WHAT?? FIRE! THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE!!! The side of our house is in flames. Nothing too major but we don't know why and fire can really change fast. Further more, we do not have a hose. Our yard is full of old pine trees shading everything so there is nothing to water. I am yelling for Edgar to call 911, he is running back and forth with a mop bucket to the kitchen sink to get water. My arms are shaking as I am trying to hurry through getting harnesses and leashes on all the dogs to get them out of the house. I pound on the upstairs neighbors door worried they might get trapped up there.
Thoughts of what I should save may our house burn up running through my mind. I take the dogs out to the car and load them all in. As I hear the fire trucks down the street, I run back to the basement for my laptop, the one thing I don't think I could stand to lose. There were more things I wanted to grab but the thought of looking like a materialistic ass standing in the street holding a box of my childhood memories and my favorite painting stopped me.
Two fire trucks full of helmuted heros arrive, axes and extinguishers in hand to save the day. They chopped out the fiery panel looking for the electrical fire in the wall. This is what I thought must be happening. We live in a very old building and I was totally picturing wires aflame, zipping through the wall like in the movie, Money Pit with Tom Hanks and Shelley somebody. But alas, it was only a case of reckless arson. Some moron threw a cigarette against our house. We live in a building that used to be a grocery store in the 20's and our front door opens right into the sidewalk, so throwing a cigarette against the side of it would take little effort. Maybe even a car driving by did it.
Nothing inside burned and actually little damage was done to the outside. The house reeked of burnt yuckiness for a while and the dogs were a bit freaked out but we were all fine and with a good story to tell. I glared at the crowd of neighbors that had gathered in the street hoping for a good show. The firemen and women were very nice and we stood around talking with them about art, dogs and how often fires start this way, for a while before they left.
The thought of our house burning up scared the bejesus out of me and last night while laying in bed, I kept smelling smoke - which was not there. While we watched the season three premier of Dexter, I thought the sound of the wind blowing the trees outside sounded like the fire crackling on wood earlier that day. And twenty minutes after dosing off, I woke and went to check the oven one more time. I wonder sometimes if I died in a fire in my past life because it is truly my worst fear.
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