I am one who likes to collect life experiences. I’m not really an ambitious collector, and at this point there isn’t anything radical on the list. In fact, there is no list, but if an opportunity presents itself to do something I’ve never done, I’m usually game. And if something mildly unpleasant or uncomfortable comes my way, I can usually roll with it and chalk it up as another life experience. Like having a dentist try to rip a tooth out of my head with no anesthesia. Like having another dentist who knows how to use his instruments yank four teeth in one day (after the failure of the aforementioned). Like eating lamb and fish in England – not a fan (of lamb and fish, not England), coaching cheerleading (sooo not a fan), and drinking almost an entire tidal creek trying to learn to slalom – and never succeeding (at slalom, not drinking the creek). I digress, but you get the picture.

Well, this past Wednesday night I added a new one to the list. One of the unpleasant and uncomfortable variety.

My mom joined the four of us for dinner, and we grilled burgers and dogs. I baked fries and prepared chili on the stovetop. We played a dinner game (so fun – Beginner Dinner Games – thanks Erika!) and went for a walk around the neighborhood. My aunt lives just around the corner, so we walked for a visit.

Yada, yada, yada, we visited. We were leaving, and my aunt ran back into the yard – ashen and blurted, “Don’t panic, but Darrell just called and there’s a fire truck in front of your house!”

WHAT!?!

Chris darted off towards the house. Carson fell apart. I’m trying to talk sense into a seven year-old who thinks her Tiger and blankie are burning as we speak (I know I’m an idiot, but, hey, I thought my house was on fire! Grace, people, grace…). My mom had Campbell who wasn’t saying anything, and we’re trying to speed walk back to our house. I began to think through whether I turned off the stove and oven as we all four began to run. I really didn’t want to see our house in flames, and I sure didn’t want my girls to, but we rushed towards our dread.

We made the turn on to our street, and there stood a fire truck with lights turning and five or six fully-attired fireman entering my kitchen from the garage. My first thought,…

Well, at least my truck is okay 🙂

We saw no flames, no hoses, no smoke. Okay, it can’t be that bad. Whew…

Come to find out, there was no fire! None! Like not even a spark. And I hadn’t ruined my family’s life by leaving the stove or oven on. Yee-haw!

Our free-thinking alarm system sent a fire alarm to our monitoring service when it wasn’t even armed. AND WHEN THERE WAS NO FIRE!!!!!! Cute…

A service call and $200 later, we’re all good. And thankful (about there not being a fire, not about the $200 service call).