Even before Jenna’s two friends and most of their family had perished in a fire (see here and here) I have been paranoid of open flames and space heaters and such. During the power outage we had candles.
At first, Roland had placed a candle in one of the sinks so that we could have light in the bathroom. Gradually it moved above the sink so that we could use the sink without putting out the flame. He made sure there were no towels near or anything that could catch on fire. So a few days later when I told Jenna to do the same thing, Roland went with her to make certain that the area of the bathroom she picked would be safe. She started her candle in the sink also. But her sink is evidently shallower than ours and the faucet was made out of plastic which I hadn’t even known was a thing.
The smoke alarm in Jenna’s room had been whining since the power had gone out – like it needed fresh batteries. I don’t know why hers went off and ours didn’t. They had been installed at the very same time (see here)
The smoke alarm in the hall is electric – which I thought was weird – or rather it’s power source feeds off the electricity but is still able to work in power outages. We learned that when the faucet caught on fire and the smoke alarm in the hall and the one in mine and Roland’s bedroom went off. We chose not to call the fire department as we know they have been busy throughout the week. Roland figured it was a problem we could deal with ourselves.
After the fire was out, he made certain that all the inside doors were closed and opened a window in the bathroom, the front outside door, and some other windows and handed each of us a towel to wave down the hall and toward the open door. It seemed a bit amusing at first – I mean the very idea of a faucet catching on fire because of a candle. Jenna kept apologizing, but I told her it wasn’t her fault. This house is made out of cheap material. It’s a wonder that our roof didn’t cave in.
I made comments about any passers-by who could be watching (not that there were, but just at the thought of it) that would question as to why we had the door open in the first place, and why we were all waving towels as though it were an exercise ritual or something. The thought made us smile at first, but we quickly became exhausted.
The alarm in mine and Roland’s room had stopped, but the one in the hall continued to whine – though the pitch seemed to be getting duller. Roland said we had to continue to wave so that there wouldn’t be carbon monoxide in the air. Only he could smell the remains of horrible odor – or at least I imagine it was horrible. I couldn’t smell it when it happened let alone an hour later or even the next day. How blessed I feel that Roland was able to get to the fire before it went out of control.
