I have never been very good in emergencies.
All of my common sense goes out the window.
I don’t panic, but I definitely don’t do the smartest things. Last month, I was downstairs doing the laundry. I hate that our washer and dryer are in the furnace room, but that is how our home is set up. It doesn’t make it very convenient for me, but until we can get a bit of extra money, I will have to share a room with the furnace. Normally, I don’t think about the sounds and smells down there. Sometimes, I smell a whiff of oil if they have just put fuel in the tank. I caught my sixteen-year-old son hiding down there a couple days ago, and now I am thinking too much. I smelled the smoke the second I got into the furnace room. No one smokes in our house, so I notice it everywhere we go. When I smelled the smoke, I thought there was something wrong with the furnace. I thought I should call the HVAC company first, but if I smelled smoke, it could be a fire. Maybe I should call the fire company first. I looked to see if I could detect any smoke anywhere, but I saw nothing. A whiff of smoke hit my nose again, and I threw a measuring cup full of water in the direction of the smoke and I called 911. I no sooner said hello, but I heard a voice. My now sopping wet son was lodged behind the furnace with a cigarette in his hand. I apologized to the operator and told her everything was fine, and I had mis-dialed. My son didn’t get off so easily when his father came home.