The House of the Burning Prairie–Burned

Everyone is OK, that’s the most important thing. 

Training is all done and I started my brand-spanking-new official schedule this week. Which means I work Monday, Tuesday, Friday and Saturday nights. Hubby flies solo while I am at work, and he does a great job. And it is a good thing he was on duty Saturday evening, I probably wouldn’t have handled things as well.

My cell phone started ringing off the hook about an hour and a half into my shift. (I keep it on vibrate because I use it as a clock, watches get in the way of the typing.) I had to use the ladies’ room anyway so I decided to check and see where the fire was, turns out it was at my House. I heard a frantic voice mail from Hubby telling me to “come home right now! The House is on FIRE!!!!” I turned right around without making my much-needed pit stop (this is important later), ran to my supervisor’s desk, told her I had to leave and why, took the time to shut off my computer, and ran out. 

On my way home, Hubby called again and told me they were out and safe. Then he told me I had to at least pretend to be calm, for the babies’ sake. I resolved to be calm, and my resolve lasted until I saw a half-dozen or so fire engines in front of the House. I parked in the neighbor’s driveway and ran through our yard until I got to our driveway, whereupon I was physically restrained by a giant firefighter lady. I couldn’t see my family, but she told me (yelled at me) that everyone was out of the House. Then the Guy in The Big Red Hat, who was talking to Hubby, came and got me and took me to them.

Our across-the-street neighbors brought out chairs and a blanket for Monkey (who sheds his pants the moment he walks in the door, a practice that is now at its end, by the way) and Hubby, Monkey and Pumpkin were watching the spectacle nestled safely among the Halloween lawn ornaments. I have to admit that while I find the giant bat and fake severed body parts hanging from their tree to be adorable, I was quite startled to find my family right next to an un-dead skeleton creature rising from the earth. Gave me a bit of a start.

Hubby told me that the damage was confined to the garage, but that the whole House was filled with smoke. Some kind of short happened between the circuit breakers and the electric meter, causing the whole mess to blow up and catch fire. Hubby smelled smoke and grabbed a fire extinguisher, thinking he could fix the problem. He decided to leave it to the professionals once he got a good look at the flames shooting up the back of our House. So he grabbed the babies, his phone and called 911, his shoes and ran out the door. He could already hear the sirens when he stepped outside. And by the time he got across the street and had the time to put his shoes on, the fire engines were pulling up in front of the House. That’s when he called me.

By the time I arrived, the fire was mostly put out, but smoke and seemingly endless numbers of firefighters were still pouring out of our darkened garage. After praising Monkey for being such a brave big boy, and comforting Pumpkin who trembled in my arms, I took them over to Nana’s house. The kids happily dumped out toys and Nana’s jewelry box while I called the insurance company. After I finished talking to the adjuster, I realized that I still hadn’t used the ladies’ room and was in a bit of discomfort. One emergency had yielded to another.

In the meantime, the firefighters had cleared the House. The dark, smoky House. The physical damage may be confined to the garage, but the whole House was filled with smoke and even after days of airing out still smells like the inside of a Weber Grill.  And since our circuit box is a charred ruin, we have no power. A long time ago, before we had babies, Hubby and I may have roughed it, playing gin rummy by lantern-light and keeping our Dr. Pepper in an ice chest. But alas, we have babies. Babies that I cannot ask to give up Dora The Explorer or climate control or cold chocolate milk. And the House is truly uninhabitable. We spent most of the day mucking out the garage and bagging up stuff that didn’t survive the fire, the smoke, or the fire hoses. 

So, our insurance is paying for all of us to stay in one of those hotels for extended stays. It has a queen-size bed in an alcove, a dreadfully uncomfortable pull-out couch, a big closet (bigger than mine at the House), a desk, a tiny bathroom, and a one-butt kitchen with all the comforts of home, just not as big. Here we stay, hopefully for a month or less, while the House gets fixed up.

We meet with the adjuster in the morning. I’ll let you know how it goes.