Goo walked into the living room yesterday, pinched her nose and said, “Pee Yew! It’s stinky in here!” I agreed, it was stinky. Stinky like…like what? Burning? Yes, burning. Burning what? I wasn’t cooking anything. I wasn’t ironing anything (no surprise there).
I now begin unplugging things. Checking every outlet. Smelling…yes, smelling…every electrical appliance/entertainment/lighting device to see if that’s where the smell is coming from. Nothing. The smell is getting worse, so I decide to check the outlets behind the furniture. There is a lamp plugged in, but that’s not on, so no big worry there. Just to be safe, I unplug it anyway. I move to the other side of the couch, where I can see the sunlight streaming in through the window. And in that sunlight I see
thousands of dust particles smoke. GAHH! Where is it coming from? Could it be…no, it’s not even plugged in any more…
Oh. Dear. God. There is smoke billowing out from the outlet where the lamp was plugged in. I grab the fire extinguisher, and immediately one of my biggest fears comes to mind:
What if I’m not strong enough to pull that little pin out? I mean, it’s in there good and tight. And I’m the girl who asks her husband to open the too-tight jars.
Just go for it, Mediocre Mom. Show that pin who’s boss. Sweep in and save the day. And your family. And your house. And that awesome lamp you got from Ikea for super cheap.
And let me tell you, I OWNED that fire extinguisher. I ripped that pin out like I rip lip gloss out of Goo’s hand. I stood a few feet away, and in a series of short bursts, put out that smoking
My form? Perfect. My timing? Psssh. Awesome. My composure in the face of a blazing inferno? Un-freakin-believable.
Now that the fire has been extinguished and the floor is covered in extinguisher dust, and the baby is crawling in the dust, I call my husband to tell him of my heroics. “Good news honey! I know how to properly use a fire extinguisher in an emergency!”
When he arrived at home later, we cut off the power supply and removed the charred outlet, to discover that all our wiring is old. As in, still “insulated” in cloth old. Cloth that had frayed around the wires. And wires that had come loose from the outlet. Umm, recipe for disaster, anyone?
Despite the dire wiring situation, I saved the day. And my family. And my Ikea lamp. I basically rule. I also think electricians rule. Maybe I’ll go call one…