I awoke to a pulsating, ear piecing wale. If a noise can be described by a motion, it was like waxing a car, the hand moving in a circular fashion over and over to buff it to a brilliant shine. The smoke alarm was singing its mournful tune, its blare cutting clean through to the bone, round and round it went, if not for the fact it is deafening, it could almost be musical in its deliverance. Although momentarily dazed and confused, I’m up off the sofa like a shot, the grey cells quickly assessing my surroundings. I smell and see the smoke, billowing out of the stove-top like dark clouds rolling in before a storm. The liver! The dog’s breakfast!
Pieces of organ meat are charred beyond recognition, cremated under the glass lid. Not only is the meat dead for a second time, my new Paderno pan is toast.
My biggest concern is for my pups, especially Honey, and the high pitched squeal that must be wreaking havoc on their sensitive ears. Surprisingly, the noise frightens them into silence, normally they’d be barking their arses off, but this hullabaloo is bigger than any commotion they can make. Unlike the sound of the wind gently banging the screen door on its frame or the hooves of wandering deer crunching on the gravel outside, this din is big, perhaps dinosaur sized and coming for them.
I grabbed the pan by the handle, it’s hot so I set it down on the cutting board, leaving a black imprint, the heat of its bottom searing into the wood like a branding iron. Wrapping a tea towel around the handle I head for the door, throw it open and set the pan on the ground, taking the offending trail of smoke with me. Then I run back into the house and start throwing open windows and doors to air out the house.
I know the fire department will come, they always do, and now that the house is safe, my concern is for my appearance. I’m still in my nightie, everything loose and flopping beneath. My hair is greasy and my face has red blotches that I would die if someone should see.
The alarm is still blaring and I grab the tea towel to swing in front of the smoke detector. That doesn’t work so I attack the panel, pressing buttons with abandon. The phone rings and I run to answer it, see that its ADT so I get out that I burned the dogs breakfast but we’re cut off because I’m still trying to kill the alarm at the panel. Protocol is to let it run, answer the phone, explain that it’s not a life threatening emergency and they will shut it off from their end. Now I know I’m screwed as I hear the fire truck siren start up in the distance, I know they are coming for me......
So I abandon the phone, happily the alarm is now off, perhaps they heard me explain how I burned the dogs breakfast before we were disconnected, so I run upstairs to throw on a bra and clothes, the siren blaring closer and louder as the pumper truck barrels towards the house. My hair is unfixable so I don a ball cap, about as unnatural looking on me as a hat on a foot. I smear on foundation to cover the broken veins and red bulbous nose and from a short distance it will suffice, but up close it would be an embarrassing paint job, like an old lady putting on rouge.
So the pups and I wait for the boys to arrive. The dogs look at me like I might be crazy, flying around the kitchen trying to tidy up the mess from last night’s meal. I might be careless and burn stuff, but I’m proud and don’t want anyone to see all the rib bones and remnants of vegetable peelings, wrappers and debris lying about.
I’m worried all the firemen will set Honey into a tailspin of fainting and seizures. Yesterday she fainted three times, once while lying in her bed and one of them was followed by some sort of seizure, a new, unsettling development in her illness. Her tiny body thrashed around, from one side to another while her stiff limbs pointed straight up. She collapsed when the repair guy came to the shop to have a look at our heat pump. She jumped down from the chair and danced around his legs for a pick-me-up before I realized what she was doing. Next thing she’s on the floor and I fell to my knees to help while she fainted, then came to and seized before I could pick her up. A new development I’m not prepared for. I had a rough and trying day yesterday, several appointments and emotional stresses and I was exhausted.
So that was why I had to nap shortly after getting up this morning. I put their liver in the fry pan, and I knew I should have put on the timer for 10 minutes but my fog rattled brain was too busy directing my body toward the sofa to lie down while it cooked. I always put water in the pan so it steam fries, but it was medium heat and went well over an hour so it dried then burned to a crisp, scorched the hell out of the cover and the fry pan and then the alarm went off.
I’m still in a fog, my eyes mere slits even though the excitement of the morning should have jarred me fully awake. The acrid smell of char is strong, a constant reminder of this morning’s event. I’m still so tired I want to crawl into a hole, close my eyes and sleep, but there is chicken cooking on the stove now, the replacement for the liver. I’m trying to stay awake by writing. No one wants a repeat of earlier this morning more than me and the pups want their breakie....then perhaps a little nap......
Pieces of organ meat are charred beyond recognition, cremated under the glass lid. Not only is the meat dead for a second time, my new Paderno pan is toast.
My biggest concern is for my pups, especially Honey, and the high pitched squeal that must be wreaking havoc on their sensitive ears. Surprisingly, the noise frightens them into silence, normally they’d be barking their arses off, but this hullabaloo is bigger than any commotion they can make. Unlike the sound of the wind gently banging the screen door on its frame or the hooves of wandering deer crunching on the gravel outside, this din is big, perhaps dinosaur sized and coming for them.
I grabbed the pan by the handle, it’s hot so I set it down on the cutting board, leaving a black imprint, the heat of its bottom searing into the wood like a branding iron. Wrapping a tea towel around the handle I head for the door, throw it open and set the pan on the ground, taking the offending trail of smoke with me. Then I run back into the house and start throwing open windows and doors to air out the house.
I know the fire department will come, they always do, and now that the house is safe, my concern is for my appearance. I’m still in my nightie, everything loose and flopping beneath. My hair is greasy and my face has red blotches that I would die if someone should see.
The alarm is still blaring and I grab the tea towel to swing in front of the smoke detector. That doesn’t work so I attack the panel, pressing buttons with abandon. The phone rings and I run to answer it, see that its ADT so I get out that I burned the dogs breakfast but we’re cut off because I’m still trying to kill the alarm at the panel. Protocol is to let it run, answer the phone, explain that it’s not a life threatening emergency and they will shut it off from their end. Now I know I’m screwed as I hear the fire truck siren start up in the distance, I know they are coming for me......
So I abandon the phone, happily the alarm is now off, perhaps they heard me explain how I burned the dogs breakfast before we were disconnected, so I run upstairs to throw on a bra and clothes, the siren blaring closer and louder as the pumper truck barrels towards the house. My hair is unfixable so I don a ball cap, about as unnatural looking on me as a hat on a foot. I smear on foundation to cover the broken veins and red bulbous nose and from a short distance it will suffice, but up close it would be an embarrassing paint job, like an old lady putting on rouge.
So the pups and I wait for the boys to arrive. The dogs look at me like I might be crazy, flying around the kitchen trying to tidy up the mess from last night’s meal. I might be careless and burn stuff, but I’m proud and don’t want anyone to see all the rib bones and remnants of vegetable peelings, wrappers and debris lying about.
I’m worried all the firemen will set Honey into a tailspin of fainting and seizures. Yesterday she fainted three times, once while lying in her bed and one of them was followed by some sort of seizure, a new, unsettling development in her illness. Her tiny body thrashed around, from one side to another while her stiff limbs pointed straight up. She collapsed when the repair guy came to the shop to have a look at our heat pump. She jumped down from the chair and danced around his legs for a pick-me-up before I realized what she was doing. Next thing she’s on the floor and I fell to my knees to help while she fainted, then came to and seized before I could pick her up. A new development I’m not prepared for. I had a rough and trying day yesterday, several appointments and emotional stresses and I was exhausted.
So that was why I had to nap shortly after getting up this morning. I put their liver in the fry pan, and I knew I should have put on the timer for 10 minutes but my fog rattled brain was too busy directing my body toward the sofa to lie down while it cooked. I always put water in the pan so it steam fries, but it was medium heat and went well over an hour so it dried then burned to a crisp, scorched the hell out of the cover and the fry pan and then the alarm went off.
I’m still in a fog, my eyes mere slits even though the excitement of the morning should have jarred me fully awake. The acrid smell of char is strong, a constant reminder of this morning’s event. I’m still so tired I want to crawl into a hole, close my eyes and sleep, but there is chicken cooking on the stove now, the replacement for the liver. I’m trying to stay awake by writing. No one wants a repeat of earlier this morning more than me and the pups want their breakie....then perhaps a little nap......
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