Of Fire, Snow and Ashes

I am not one to say “I told you so.” Oh, no. There are much, much better things to do with little incidents where one could have said I told you so than to waste it in the moment. For instance, let’s start with yesterday’s snow fall, shall we? We unexpectedly got about five inches of snow (for the first time this winter I might add).

So, naturally it called for a fire in the fireplace, no? Husband built a beautiful one just in case the electricity went out (which we’ve been warned does just for the heck of it. So, why take chances?).

I took this as an opportunity to actually learn something about the fireplace. We had just watched our first episode of Meet The Preppers (on Animal Planet) and I have decided it was time I knew how to do some stuff.

(Side note: Have you seen this show? OMG. Cliff notes: There are people all over America — even in the seemingly calm Phoenix suburbs – who spend their entire lives preparing for the end of the world. Stocking up on coins, fitting themselves and their 4 year old children with gas masks, hoarding food, changing their backyard swimming pools into a self sustaining green house-fish farm-goat house. I am not kidding. The fact their neighbors will likely blow them up to get to their food stores on probably, oh, day three of Armageddon, doesn’t seem to bother these folks. They also appear to be heavily armed. So, go get your own food.)

Anyway, back to me learning to make fire.

Husband pushed the little handle thinkee back just before he lit the pile. So, that’s how you open it? I ask? Yep.

He then lights the honking pile of twigs, newspaper, logs, cardboard, and junk mail. It caught quickly.

It also suddenly started to blow ashes out of the fireplace like crazy. Husband stars poking and prodding, which only made it loook like Mt. Vesuvius had erupted in our living room. Husband gets out The Animal to vacumm the furniture. (You don’t know about The Animal? It is our new Dyson vacuum cleaner that can suck up small children and animals if you aren’t careful. Another day, another post.)

It was about this time that I noticed the room’s visibility dropping and the wafting smoke curls in the light. Hmmm…

Husband, are you sure the flue is open??

Silence.

He checks.

You know where this is heading, don’t you?

It was CLOSED.

In addition to it being the first time Callum has ever seen snow. He was now getting a taste of Armageddon. Indoors.

I rush to open all the doors and start fanning out the growing smoke while checking on Callum to make sure 1) he wasn’t dying of smoke inhalation or 2) sneaking outside to eat more snow. He did.

I also notice that our smoke alarm was not going off. Yet another thing to fix. During all this I did not have time to take pictures of the evidence.

Guess how long it takes for smoke to disappear from a house? Try 3 hours. And, it was Downton Abbey night!! I was not vacating.

Turned out the flue had been open for weeks (the last time we built a fire), which would explain why I was always so effing cold every night.

The urge at the point to point out Husband’s mistake was like holding back an avalanche. But, then I realized the leverage I had just gained. Why waste it? Oh, no, I have much, much better plans for this little incident. I am tucking it away in my little brain for future reference.

About a half hour later he starts second guessing himself, muttering and wondering how this could have happened. I start to feel sorry for him. Perhaps I should just forget this ever happened and not use it at a later time, like when I make a mistake and I have to remind him no one is perfect?

Nah.