We had a painting semi-disaster today. The job that we figured would be done by 3 didn't wind up being finished until 5:00...and we have to go back later to hit it up with a second coat.
That's the back story.
I told Joey we absolutely had to leave by 5:00 because we had company coming at 6:30. An hour and a half was enough time for us to shower, finish dinner, set the table, and not be frantic.
We took our showers and were doing great on my schedule (I'm kind of a schedule nerd, poor Joey). I was drying my hair happily when I started noticing a really strange noise coming from the outlet.
Zap. Zappity zap zap. Ka-zap.
I thought it was my hairdryer (which distressed me since I've had this hair dryer for 7 faithful years and it has come with me to several countries), so I turned it off.
The zapping continued. I began to become concerned but, at the same time, was relieved that my hairdryer wouldn't have to be thrown into the Dumpster.
"Um, Joey?!" I squeaked. I was getting really nervous. The zapping was getting stronger. "The outlet is doing something really weird."
He came zipping into the room. After unplugging my hairdryer, turning off the light, and pushing the little red button on the outlet, he determined that the situation was beyond his capabilities.
That, and it was starting to smell like smoke.
He called the emergency maintenance service and told them what was going on. I (at the risk of offering too much information) rushed to find something to put on, lest the repair man come and find me in the Altogether.
Joey found the breaker box and turned off power to the bathroom, bedroom and our closet. This made the search for clothes much more difficult, but I was not dissuaded. (Although the outfit I came up with doesn't match as well as it could have under normal circumstances.)
I moved to the only mirror in the house that still had a light source (the study) and slapped on some makeup. Thirty minutes to company arriving.
The smoky, burning wire smell had sort of abated once Joey turned off the breaker, and I was quite relieved.
The repair man came and he and Joey went straight to the bathroom. The repair man was a very interesting sort; a very jolly chap who swore like it was his job and who loved dogs. (He cussed at least 3 times in the 10 minutes he was in our house.)
He determined that something important had melted in the switch, and he swapped it out. Twenty minutes to company.
He then played with Henry for another five minutes. Fifteen minutes to company.
The table wasn't set, the dishes weren't put away, the salad wasn't made, and the chicken wasn't in the oven. I was getting a little frantic.
I zipped into the bathroom and lit a candle to try to disguise the odd burnt wire smell, then ran back to the kitchen where I simultaneously finished the salad and set the table.
(I realized as Joey was down directing our guests in that I'd forgotten to put the knives and spoons on the table, so I fixed that real quick.)
All in all, I we had a lovely time with our company, small electrical fire aside.
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1 comment:
Hmm, sounds a bit scary to me! At least you could call someone out. Was it a fault with that specific outlet or might it happen to the others?
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