As Long as We're Talking About Boys...

I was talking to my mom one afternoon a few weeks back, when the high-pitched beeping of the fire alarm interrupted me.

"I have to go, Mom," I said. "Jillie is burning down the kitchen."

I knew what to expect. A little bit of smoke. The smell of burning flour. And one batch of burnt cookies.

What I found instead alarmed me.

Nothing.

There was nothing. No smoke. No burning. No blackened plate of cookies.

So, I asked myself, Why is the fire alarm going off?

I thought it was a pretty legitimate question considering the obvious lack of fire.

I decided to ask my mother that very question, and her response was: "Probably your house is just filling up with carbon monoxide and the alarm is trying to warn you before it kills your canary."

Or something like that. She said something like that.

So I decided to call the Tucson Fire Department administrative services to see if I should be worried about potential carbon monoxide in my house.

Unfortunately, the Tucson Fire Department administrative services close at 5 p.m. and since it was nearing 5:30, nobody answered my call.

So I did the most logical thing I could think of, which was to call my fire fighter friend (who happened to vacation), interrupt his road trip, and ask him the chance of me killing over from carbon monoxide poisoning in the next few minutes.

He said the chances were slim, but told me to make sure my water heater was working.

I went out into the garage with full intention of obliging his suggestion, but upon reaching that big medal cylinder, I realized that I, applicably, have no idea how a water heater works or how to tell if it is leaking harmful gasses into my garage that may or may not explode the next time I decide to turn my car on.

He tried, bless his heart, to explain the inner-workings of the water heater to me, but I failed to grasp the content. So, not wanting to further interrupt his vacation, I told him I was going to call my father who had dealt with me and this sort of thing before, and thanked him for his help.

I did call my dad, and when he didn't answer his phone, I left this message:

"Hey Dad, it's Alec. I was wondering if you could help me figure out my water heater. My house may or may not be about to explode. Thanks Dad! Love you."

I know what you're thinking. Dramatic Much?

But I'll have you know, it's my skills in dramatics that landed 4 strapping firefighters in my living room.

I'd be happy to give you a tutorial for a small fee.

Or you can just take what you can from the rest of the story. Which I'll tell you, later.