Observations
Last Friday started out just like any other Friday. Riding around, seeing some clients, finishing up paperwork for the week and looking forward to the weekend.
About quarter to six, I am sitting all alone in the office just finishing up an e-mail when I get a call from my husband, Andy.
“I’ve just walked into the house and it is full of smoke. I’ve already called 911,” he says. “I’m on my way,” I say. Before I even hang up the phone, I hear the fire siren.
Living close to the fire house, we always hear the siren go off, and from here at the Coastal Point office you can hear it, too. You always have that sense of dread when it goes off, wondering if it is anyone you know. When the kids were teenagers, I always worried, calling them to see where they were or waiting for them to arrive home safely. But never do you get such a sinking feeling as when you know for sure it’s your house for which it is sounding.
I only live about two blocks from the office, so I got there within 2 minutes. Fire Chief Doug Scott was already on the scene, assessing the situation and turning off the electricity. I could see the smoke through the windows but no sign of flames. That seemed like a good sign.
Within seconds, fire trucks started arriving. Firemen start searching the house, looking for the cause, which is thought to be coming from the attic.
I have a clear view from the side window of the house as I watch them open the attic. Then, it hits me. All of the Christmas boxes are sitting up there right by the entrance so that they are easily assessable to put away all of the decorations, blocking the entire walkway (well, lets say crawl-way) of the attic. There is no standing up in there.
Why put them back in their right spot when you are just going to have to get them back down again after the holidays? Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. At that moment, I realize that it was not such a good idea. Now I see the assembly line of firemen from the attic, down the stairs, through the hallway and to the living room, handing each other box after box. Not good…
Of course, the source of the smoke is at the farthest point from the attic entrance. A HVAC air handling unit that is hard to get to through 35 years of junk up in the attic.
Yes, I am one of those people that never throws anything away. You never know when you are going to need those old dried out prom flowers from 1972 and the Beanie Baby market is bound to go back up if I keep them long enough. But, after Friday night, it seems that I may need to revaluate my attic storage capacity. Maybe it is not quantity but quality that I should be striving for. I know that will make Gene Hazzard very happy.
All in all, there were no actual flames and only smoke damage. Luckily, Andy came home when he did. Luckily, we live very close to the fire house, and, luckily, we have a wonderful and dedicated force of volunteer firefighters who drop everything to do whatever is necessary to keep us all safe — something I got to witness and appreciate first hand.
To them, we give our sincere thanks. Thank you to Millville Volunteer Fire Company and to the Bethany Beach and Frankford fire companies, who also came. Thank you to the fire police and to friends and family who offered any assistance that we may need.
Thank you Tami Hazzard for being such a good friend and thank you Gene for getting us back up and running, and to anyone else that I may have missed. Thank you, thank you, and thank you.