To say I need a kick in the ass is an understatement.
So, the wife went to do the shopping at about 0630 and got back around 0930 this morning. after getting the haul all put away, we sat down, Decided what to watch on netflix...
She sets the timer, and walks in here, where we continue coffee, and our daily ritual of cursing the news.
within 5 minutes, I started smelling a burning stench coming from the kitchen. Told the wife, and she got up, thinking maybe something had fell in the oven, and was burning.
Sure enough, that was the case, except it was from Easter Sunday. Turns out, when she pulled the ham out then, Grease had spilled in the bottom of the stove, and since we hadn't used it since then, it was just a fire waiting to happen.
Now my wife has three voices.
One is the typical conversational voice, pleasant, like a gentle wind flowing across your face while you enjoy a cold one and a fishing rod.
The Second is her anger voice, slightly louder, feels more like a volcano, and full of wit and volcanic fire.
The third voice, is unusual as I have only heard it twice before. It is direct, curt, and anticipatory.
The third voice is what I heard today, when she called for me to come fast.
She had managed to grab the foil, and drop the pizza on the oven door, and I sat there for the briefest of moments, as I watched the flames lick at her , although she was standing back much like a Nordic god of old.
So this is where my ass needing kicked comes in. I reached under the sink for the Fire extinguisher, only to find the grandkids had decided it was fun to play with, and returned it empty.
I then turned to the counter, to grab the flour, only to find it wasn't there, but over by the Microwave, on the opposite side of the kitchen exactly where I don't keep it.
I struggle against all hope to get the damn lid off, while in my mind cursing God, the makers of Pizza, Whirlpool, and I think maybe politicians just because I could, and eventually get enough flour in the bottom of the oven, to douse the flames.
I grab the hot pot holder, and move the grates to the sink, and the pizza to the cutting counter. By this time, old ham oil smoke has filled the kitchen, my 18 + Boston terriers think this is some kind of sick game, as all they smell is smoke and pork, my wife is at this point laughing her ass off at me with a mirth that would rival R.E.Howards Conan character.
I reach up above the sink to open the window, after having turned on the vents, only to realize, I am getting fat, and that those grates from the stove are still hot, hot enough to give my old beer belly the f*cking Zebra treatment as I open both glass panels.
I then look at the smoke detectors, only to find out the cheap ass batteries from the dollar store had already went out, even though I changed them two months ago.
Surveying the damage, IT looked like a rabid badger had been through the kitchen. Flour everywhere, stripes across my belly, enough pork smoke to damn any religion that doesn't allow said meat, I've got Dogs running under foot , half of them leaving a trail of Flour as they run from room to room. a Broken fire extinguisher somehow lodged back under the kitchen sink, Windows open which from the outside looked like we had employed Chinese manufacturing techniques in cooking the damn Pizza.
Then I heard it. a single ding. During all this, the wife had finished cooking the pie in the microwave.
My friends, Things like this can happen to anyone. Please check your home for fire safety. we where lucky, and while I tried to make light of it, it could have easily turned serious. I don't want anyone to loose their home, or god forbid a loved one.
Stephen