First off, and totally unrelated to the topic at hand, I just wanted to say that bassett hounds are like the cutest dogs on earth. I’ve been thinking that ever since I’ve been seeing Eeyore’s adorable photos of (himself) (his dog) along with his comments lately . Now, my dog is only HALF bassett (.5B). But it’s the bassett in him that keeps us enthralled. Far more than the whiney beagle half, I’m sure.
And from that inauspicious prologue, I begin a somber post: I could have died last night. But I didn’t! There but for the grace of Adonai go I and my family.
It began with a game of Dodge Ball in my basement.
That game of Dodge Ball caused the heating system to go out, thanks to an inadvertant flip of the switch, itself caused by an errant dodged ball.
That failure of oil-heat caused me to light fires in both of my fireplaces.
The dual fires led my husband to inquire, “What the hell is going on here? And why is it so freakin’ cold?”
That question led to a phone call with the oil purveyor, who helped us discern that the heating system had been shut off, and who helped us to shut it back on.
The shutting on of the heating system enabled us to stop adding logs to the fires in the respective fireplaces.
Without additional logs, the fires went out.
Without fire, the fireplaces seemed like cold, vacuum-like spaces.
The cold, vacuum-like spaces called out to us to close their flues so as not to let any more precious heat out into the night air.
The closing of the flues did nothing to release the toxic gases being released by the dying embers.
The toxic gases built up to a level that might have killed my entire family, had we not (THANK YOU GOD) installed carbon monoxide detectors.
The carbon monoxide detectors began to screech out their warnings at 2 a.m. this morning (last night to me).
The screeching sounds woke me up and got me to call 911 and evacuate my family.
And my family survived my city-bumpkin stupidity, the only damage, apparently, being an hour of lost sleep. And some well-deserved humiliation thanks to this being the THIRD time Banksville’s Bravest have had to wake their asses up in the middle of the night and come to my rescue (or my alleged rescue, seeing as the first two times were false alarms, and yes, they assess OUR asses fifty bucks a pop or false alarms).
God help me. I don’t know if I’m cut out for this country life.
Chad gadya, chad gadya,