About an hour ago, fire trucks started arriving and parking across the street. At last count, there were three trucks (from two different towns), a handful of police cars, a few ambulances, miscellaneous official town government cars including an “emergency management” vehicle, and a whole lot of men in uniforms wandering around the yard.
Just as I’m wondering what on earth is going on over there, the phone rings. It’s the neighbor who lives in that house, calling me to let me know a box of polymer clay books with my name on it was accidentally delivered to her. “Hmmm,” I thought, “that’s nice of you to let me know that, but don’t you currently have a circus of emergency personnel in your yard?” Then, as if reading my mind, she casually mentioned that the fire department was there due to a chemical explosion in her basement. Oh?
I’m guessing nothing actually exploded yet, because I didn’t hear a thing, I haven’t seen smoke, and there doesn’t appear to be any smothering of flames going on. Perhaps everyone is there for preventative measures? I really haven’t the slightest idea. What I do know is that I don’t plan to go get that box until the coast is absolutely clear. Not even a box of Judy Belcher books is worth getting myself blown-up over. I love everything Judy’s ever done, but I love breathing even more. I hope I don’t get kicked out of the Sisterhood of Polymer Clay Devotees for saying such a thing, but there it is.
Remember my post about Tacky Santa? I think he’s growing on me. Look what he did to the living room at 4:00 yesterday afternoon. Such a lovely red glow… It’s cozy! I lit a few candles, and turned off all of the lights to enjoy it at it’s full effect.
Those trucks aren’t going anywhere any time soon. I wonder what kind of chemicals she has in her basement.