Speaking of dying...

Actually, more like THINKING I was going to die...

At about 4:15 this morning my dog, Macy, alerted to something. It doesn't happen very often, but I just assumed it was a squirrel or something animal related running in the yard. About 3 minutes later the smoke alarms went off in my house. Now I may have blogged about this previously, but in case I didn't allow me to shed some background light on fire alarms and me...

During the past year I spent in Korea, I lived in a dorm. And in that dorm, the fire alarm went off about 17 times, always in the middle of the night. And every time it would go off we would have to get up, go outside in the cold, and wait for the fire department to 'clear' the building so we could take our weary asses back in and go back to sleep.

Back to this morning...the smoke alarms in my house go off. In my sleepy state, I reverted back to being in Korea. I was PISSED. I slowly got up, opened my eyes and Macy barked again. Oh fuck. I am not in Korea. The alarm is in my house. I go out into my hallway and can both see and smell smoke. Fuck. I have to save Macy. "MACY!" I shout. Wait, I have no clothes on. Fuck. Throw on jeans and shirt. All of which are inside out and/or backwards. Grab the following...Macy, phone, computer. These were the things on my mental list of "items i would save if ever in a fire". How neat that you remember that during times of panic. What you don't think about however, is that while you are trying to remember how to disconnect the cable from the back of the computer, visions of fire blocking you from getting downstairs and out the door fill your mind and you wonder if it's worth saving the computer if it means having to leap like Superman out your second story window.

Get downstairs, put dog and computer in car, back car out of garage a safe distance from house. Leave car running in case it needs to be moved farther away from house. Go back inside house, phone in hand, still see and smell smoke. It's gettin' real. Dial 911. Pace around house while 911 operator listens to you rant about having just bought the house and amusing you as you ask if you should open door to attic. I'm convinced it's coming from there. I am afraid enough to NOT open attic. Enter bonus room. The smell of something burning is overpowering. This is insane. Think "thank god I bought insurance". Put hands on doors of bonus room interior to see if they feel warm (remembered that one from elementary school, thank you). They don't. Still convinced my attic is in flames. Where are the fire people dammit??? Right, I live in bumfuck North Carolina. It's a 10 mile drive from the closest fire department. Go outside. Look up at house. Fully expect to see home's attic engulfed in flames. No flames. Wow. Maybe I will get lucky.

First fire person arrives. It's a volunteer firefighter. I bring him into house. We go upstairs. He the smells smoke too. But the smell has diminished somewhat from what it was before. He asks, did you turn your heat on for the first time last night? Nope. Did that yesterday. It was on a couple times during the day. Still, never thought of that. Would new heating generate enough smoke and heat to set off my alarms?? Apparently so.

The good news is that the fire people said that I was the 6th house that night this happened to. I guess all's well that ends well, no?