Fire, Bad

We had a big day yesterday. Our microwave short-circuited and started a fire, filling the house with smoke but fortunately not much damage.

I was just getting ready to work on the bathroom, both of us upstairs, when the alarms went off, and I tore downstairs to find smoke pouring from the microwave and flames shooting out the vent on top and dripping out the bottom. We had not even used it, except I always use the microwave timer to make Cheryl's special French press coffee in the morning (too bitter for me).

There are some burn marks on the floor--not too bad. And some damage to some cabinets. The stove and microwave are toasted. And we lost some appliances. And there's some smoke damage. And the smell. And... I won't go into detail.

I had the fire put out by the time the fire department got there, but they were great and helped clean up the water mess I created.

Anyway, my hands got sprinkled with some bubbling black ooze, which I was unable to wash off and which the people at urgent care also weren't able to remove (eventually it will wear off, they say). So now I am in a bandaged state and aware of the many things to appreciate about fingers. Like typing. But no permanent damage--just waiting for them to heal, two or three weeks.

Cheryl took a video of them bandaging me, so I'll be posting that soon. Then I pretended to be the Frankenstein monster, saying Fire, bad, and I scared Cheryl. Ha.

And I had just gotten the new mirror for the bathroom--I'll be tiling around it with the decorative pieces.

But probably not this week.