It’s been a little bit since I’ve bothered to post something here. Mea culpa. It’s been busy at my work, and…Ok, fine, there’s no excuse.
So, I’ll try hard. At the very least, I owe it to Blogger, what with them making the easy-to-use software and all.
Anyway, we had a small house fire this week. I know, the word “small” doesn’t do much to negate the term “house fire” very much. “House fire” has a certain weight to it that you don’t brush away just because you tack on the word “small” in front of it. That’s kind of like “teeny cancer” or “miniscule chance of certain death.”
On Tuesday, I came home to find Ian in the yard. From the street, his demeanor seemed off. He wasn’t playing so much as just standing in the yard. When I pulled up to the driveway, he started yelling something, very emphatically. Then, Deb poked her head out of the house and was yelling. This wasn’t the “Daddy’s home!” type of yelling that I get, it was much more alarming.
As soon as I got out of the truck, Deb informed me that she had smelled smoke, and had called the fire department. As soon as the words sunk in, two police cars arrived. I don’t care what you say, having policemen come to your house is never a good thing. They never show up to say that things are fine, that you have been obeying the laws or that they’ve got ice cream for you. It would be nice if they would do that once in a while.
After I had gotten my head around the fact that there were policemen at my house , and they had no ice cream, the fire trucks arrived. Trucks. Not one truck, but a normal sized one, plus a hook-and-ladder. If I thought that the police were alarming, then I needed to redefine that word. Then, “alarming” got another upgrade when one of the firefighters walking into my home with an axe. While we were waiting for the firemen to come outside and tell us everything was fine, Ian got to get into the fire truck, which is cool no matter what age you are. Big kudos to the young man who helped take his mind off the notion that his home could be burning down.
The commander came out a little while later and informed us that the fire was in the dryer vent, and that they were going to try to get to it through the outside vent. If they couldn’t do that, then they would have to try to get to it through the ceiling in the basement. The picture of that axe back in my mind, and “alarming” leveled up again.
The alarming got it’s finale when we asked if we could go in and get a coat for Deb and our car keys. The fireman we were asking radioed in to the two that were investigating, and got a reply that no, we could not go into our own house. Let me state that again. We were in a situation where we were not being allowed into our own house. I’m not trying to insinuate that the firemen were doing anything wrong; I’m thankful that they came so quickly and that they were looking out for our best interest. I’ve just never been forbidden to go into my own home before, and it made me realize just how tenuous that ownership is.
Eventually, we were able to talk with the commander about the situation. It was a small fire in our dryer vent, caused by a buildup of lint, plus the fact that the dryer isn’t vented properly. Deb and I have noticed that the dryer isn’t always very effective, and that it tends to shut off on occasion. We had Minnegasco out a few months ago (January? perhaps). The “expert” looked at our dryer and venting situation, and after cleaning lint out of the dryer, proclaimed it safe and fine. I blew out the vent with a leaf blower, hoping that doing that would improve things. But, the fireman confirmed our suspicions: the dryer would need to be re-vented in order to be safe. Within a distance of 24 inches, there were four corners in the venting path. That, plus the fact that it goes down to get to the outside, instead of going up, was the main of the fire.
Also, the firemen noticed that there was a kink in the gas line to the dryer. If the line was bent again, there would have been a hole in the line, would would probably had been deadly.
Deb and I are very thankful. We’re thankful first and foremost to God, who was looking out for us. If we hadn’t had this small fire, we could have all died from a gas leak or an explosion. We’re thankful to the fire and police departments of Burnsville. They were professional, kind and did their job perfectly. We’re also thankful to our friends and neighbors. We had many calls and offers from people who were concerned for our safety, and who want to help.
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