Last week our dishwasher tried to burn the house down. I had been up 2 days straight with insomnia (WoW not helping!). My last conscious thought as I stumbled upstairs was, “I’m going to sleep really well tonight!”
Fortunately M slept downstairs so he could do a disgustingly early meeting without waking the rest of the household. The smoke alarm didn’t go off. It is 2 archways and 20ms away from the kitchen/living room. I think the builders got that wrong. EPIC FAIL!
Next thing I’m being shaken and shoved. “There’s a fire downstairs. A real fire. I think?”
I didn’t even manage to say “WTF??? NO, GO AWAY!” although I don’t think I was listening or moving until I could find some clothing … somewhere. Must be an item of clothing on floor somewhere. It’s almost 2am, which, if you are going to sleep, is when you are totally under.
M’s trying to explain that the fire must be us cause he’s been outside but he can’t find it and “should we get the kids up right now and call 000?” I’m still wondering what drug I’m on. No wait, that’s smoke making me bleary eyed.
M has felt his way round the kitchen – which adjoins the house next door – and reckoned that our island is the source of all. Cause it’s all HOT like. He’s even pulled everything out of the cupboards. So all I need to do is cough and hand him the fire extinguisher. Then we decide to do surgery on the kitchen.
Unless we see flames we won’t call the fire dept. We manage to remove the incredibly well built in appliances without trashing the place any further. Which in hindsight is why we didn’t call the fire brigade immediately. That and me being a total zombie, and scaring the kids to bits.
So instead of sleeping… as if we could we sleep with incendiary devices ticking away downstairs.. we dismantled our kitchen. Part of the dishwasher was melted to the concrete slab. Surprisingly little other damage was done. All I can say is.. what if! But what if Michael hadn’t woken up. I sure wasn’t going to! What if he hadn’t found where the fire was before the cabinets caught hold. What if the smoke had knocked us out.
After a day or two, I bought a replacement. After another day or two, I went, hold on, “That appliance shouldn’t have caught fire.” The nice people at XXXX came straight out and offered us a replacement as long as we gave them the old one, took no photos and told no one about it. Which is why this blog was a draft for four years and I’ve changed the name. Of course I told people. It was dramatic. It scared me. I needed to talk to process things. And maybe telling someone would help them work out wtf if their kitchen… or laundry suddenly combusted.