Thursday, May 13, 2010

Reasons #114 and #115 to clean your house...

#114:  So while cooking, you don't have to set your (plastic) measuring cup on a hot burner.

#115:  So that when the Fire Department arrives, you are only 99% embarrassed, not a full 100%.

So here's the story.  I was boiling water and instead of turning on the rear burner where the pot of water was, I thought I'd turn on the front burner where I set my measuring cup.  Smart, I know.  Rarely do I have a smart moment anymore.  I blame Lily, she's very distracting.
So, the measuring cup started smoking, which smelled awesome, and I took it off the burner and rushed Lily outside.  I ran inside to get my laptop (what else would you do in an emergency?).  I googled "burned plastic toxic".

Now, pay attention, because this is where I got really smart.

Instead of clicking on a legitimate link such as from a fire department, I immediately scrolled down to a Yahoo Answers response which convinced me that both Lily and I inhaled carcinogenic fumes and we might as well dig our graves now.

Oh, it gets better.

My next google was for the Oxford Fire Department phone number and I called them to see if they thought it would be toxic.  The very nice lady responded that there were no firemen in the building but that she would call them and they would call me back.  Oh, ok?

They called back and said they'd like to come to my house and check it out. My first thought, of course, was not, "Oh, I'm so glad, I want to make sure Lily is safe".  It was, instead, "Crap!  My house is a mess!"

As Lily and I were sitting on the porch waiting for our heroes to arrive, I saw the EMT truck go past our road and go onto the next street. I thought, no way do they not know where our street is.  It's Oxford.  Very small town.  Even I know all of the roads in Oxford.

Ok, that's not true, but still, I'm not a fireman.

They turned around and finally found us.  And they were very nice.  And what, you ask, was their recommendation upon smelling this toxic death-gas?
A can of Lysol.

Yup.  A can of Lysol.  Should take care of the problem in no time.  Uh, thanks.  Ok, I suppose Lily and I can refill those graves we dug out earlier.  Whew. 

And a note that only Courtney has permission to read: I write this post making no mention of the incident three months ago at your house.  You know, the time where I placed a bag on a hot burner and we all had to camp out in Charlie's bedroom because of the fumes.  Because, really, I like to make fun of myself, but there is a limit as to how stupid I want other people to think I am. 

And to my Firefighter friend Joe (as I'm sure you are among my regular readers), I know fire safety is no joke.  It is not funny.  It is a serious issue.  Thank you for all your firefighting.

And yet another note, that all of my friends can read:  Don't allow me in your kitchen.  Especially not near your stove.