Tuesday - 193rd

No one asked if I was looking for a little excitement this morning. Had they done so, I would have answered -- no. It was to be a quiet day. No cat searching, no grocery washing, lots of reading, maybe some writing.

The morning's beautiful! The skies are a little hazy, but it's a morning mist, a thin veil of cotton over an otherwise blue sky. Happy Fall indeed!






















I feed the cats, pull some weeds, then come inside to see if Ed is up.

He is. We talk about various smells. I tell him outside, it smells like detergent in a laundromat. He says inside it smells like melting plastic. We laugh at how differently we perceive things. And then the smoke alarm goes off.
Probably needs a new battery -- he mutters.

It's the basement one. We go downstairs to a basement full of smoke and burning something. There is, in fact, a fire.

Oh, shit.

I grab my phone and exit. Ed puts it out and tries to find the source.

He comes up, switches off the electricity, goes back down. It's the water pump switch: caught on fire, melted.

So... we have no water, there is smoke in the house, and Ed is at this point stumped as to what happened. He calls the fire department. In a few minutes, we have two fire truck and an ambulance.










Ed has a long discussion downstairs with the fire inspector. I sit on the porch wondering if, in addition to the water heater, we'll have to replace the water pump.

The inspector comes up, with a trail of lecturing words for Ed. "In the future, call 911."
From Ed  -- I called the fire station just to get you here, to report a fire causing malfunction. We did not need the fire truck/ambulance etc.
You don't know that. We'll make the evaluation.
The fire was out. I put it out.
I repeat, you don't know that. Call 911.
Fine. We'll call 911. By the way, your mask is not covering your nose. This from Ed. After all, we are following strict isolation. We're seniors.
I know. It fogs up my glasses if I cover my nose. And there you have it -- a mask wearing minimalist.


In many ways, we were lucky: the water pump pressure switch caught fire, but there is nothing close to it and so the fire was contained. Had there been, say, a shelf with paint above, or any number of things that people store in basements we would have been in trouble.

As we catch our breath and Ed takes stock as to what needs to be replaced, I get a call.
Hello, this is Linda. I have your cat.
What??
I saw the picture in the ad. It's her. She came to eat -- she was really hungry. I have her in a pet carrier.
We're on our way!

As we pull into Stoughton, thinking this day cannot get any crazier, Linda calls back.
Maybe it's not her. I can't really tell if she has that white chest. Her back is toward me.

Well, we're here. We can take a look.

It's not her. There are no white or brown markings. It's a very friendly tabby.
Do you want her? She's pretty sweet!
Are you sure she's feral?

A mailman comes over with the mail. He takes a look at the cat. Hey, that's the cat of your neighbor, over at 131 (name of street).
What? The poor kitty was starving!
Well, it's your neighbor's cat.

We thank Linda and retreat. In the car again, Ed calls a hardware store. Might as well pick up a new water pump pressure switch in Stoughton.

(Drive back: are you getting familiar with the cattle?)






At home. Noon now. Ed switches out the gizmo that went up in smoke. (It's plastic burning that can kill you -- Ed reminds me ever so calmly. If you're in a fire, don't inhale it. Get low to the ground, do anything. Just don't breathe that stuff. So reassuring to know what could kill us! Seems there are many weapons pointed at us out there right now!)

I eat breakfast, alone. I have enough water to fill my coffee maker.






Ed comes up a bit later.
Water pump's fine. (What a relief. I remember lifting it out of the well several years ago, when I wasn't yet 67. I'm not sure I could still do it now.) We should be good to go.
So... what caused the fire?
I don't know. Defective product? I'll report it.

Day's not over. Opera lady hasn't sung I guess. Our long awaited stone and masonry guy comes to give us a quote on fixing the front steps.





I'm thinking -- finally, we shall have steps to the house! What's your timeline? I ask.
Maybe spring, maybe later.
Seriously?
Last year we could work until November 19th. This year -- who knows. At any rate, we're booked solid until then.

Late afternoon. Isn't it time for lunch yet? Has the new switch failed yet? You know what we need? A frittata for supper. It's the kind of a day that deserves a frittata. With broccoli, garlic, rabe, mushrooms, onion, corn, eight cheeper eggs, and lots and lots of cheese.






One last text with my older daughter, but she brushes me off. She's having an anniversary evening with her husband.

What??? Did I really mix up my own daughter's anniversary date?? Is today the first day of Fall? They were married on the first day of Fall.

It's the first day of Fall.

Shit.

But happy anniversary, sweet one!

What a day...