It was a hot Summer evening, about a week ago. The sun was just going down and I was coming home from a long day of grocery shopping. My sisters and I started our usual routine of getting out of the car, getting my kid sister out of her car seat and then getting the butt-load of food we’d just bought out of the car. I walked into the house through the garage just as my mom was turning on the Swamp Cooler. What is a Swamp Cooler, you may ask? I don’t know. Do I live near a swamp, you may ask? I don’t know… I don’t think so… Anyways, I walked into the kitchen and noticed a weird smell coming out of the vent. We turned off the air and some time had passed but the smell kept pouring through the vent. A few moments later our
nosey neighbor was walking by the house and asked us what was going on and because her place was built very similarly to ours we asked her if when she got her swamp cooler fixed there was a weird smell omitting from it. She told us ‘no’ and we suddenly grew nervous.
If we turned on the stove, would the house blow up?
If we turned our only source of cool air back on, would the house blow up?
Is it worth it?
These were questions we were asking ourselves. We told ourselves everything was fine and we could just open all of the doors and windows and get rid of the smell. But our neighbor somehow convinced us otherwise. She told us we should call 911. My mom sat down at my sister’s desk next to the phone, contemplating the idea. Somehow our neighbor got further into the house and said, “Oh, yeah! It’s really strong right here.” Still my mom wasn’t sure about calling. “You know, I can call for you?” She continued and my older sister told me to tell her we were fine, which I did, but she still didn’t leave. My mom picked up the landline and asked if she should call. We all grew silent and wondered what we should do. Our neighbor was the first to speak, “You know… that could’ve been an electrical fire. Your swamp cooler could’ve caught flame and now the smell is seeping through the vents.” No lie. This is what she said. And my mother being the amazing person that she is, finally caved and agreed to call 911. What’s funny about this, is the first thing my mom says when she answers the phone: “Hello? I think there has been an electrical fire.” Now, the first thing that goes through my mind when Lovely Mommy says that is “No there hasn’t. You tell them that and they are going to bring the cavalry.” I was right. They brought everybody and their momma. They brought the police, fire department, the ambulance even though we were all fine, and they closed off the street. At that point I wanted to either pass out or light our place on fire so that there would be a reason for all of these large men to be here asking where the fire was. At first they drove up and down the street because they didn’t know that it was us that had called, because they expected our whole place to be conflagrant. The police officer stopped across the street and called out, “Is this the electrical fire place?” Well, why yes it is officer, can’t you tell by the lack of fire? Later I found out that it was standard procedure to bring that many people to a scene in case somebody had gotten hurt or could get hurt. There was also just a bit of miscommunication on their end. Apparently my mom had also said that it was just smoke and a strange smell coming through the vents and no actual fire; that we thought the swamp cooler had exploded and the smell was coming through the vents and that it could be poisonous. Phew. Right, guys? Moving on, lights were blaring all over the house, firemen were going in and out of the house, ambulance was on standby, my older sister had disappeared, and I was stuck with the youngens. You know what we call this? Fun, that’s what. (Note: Sarcasm.)
Forgive the blurriness of the pictures. I hadn’t eaten and there was too much excitement going on. Anywho, it turns out our swamp cooler had fried and the smell was coming through the vents. The firefighters, being the awesome people that they are, attempted to fix it with some duck tape until we could get a handy man to do it. (Apparently they “break things not fix them”–Real Firefighter. It’s funny because I had always thought they did the opposite.). So, we find out we are going to be AC-less for the next couple of days and it was supposed to be 105 degrees out the next day. Not fun. So we got somebody down here before the firefighters left to come and try and fix it. Didn’t work because we needed a new one completely.
When all was said and done, a policeman came over to me and my sisters and asked what was wrong and if they’d fixed it. I promptly answered him and expected him to leave because he’d came over when all the action had died down and nobody needed any help (he had been previously occupied with some blonde lady that had stopped by for a chat, wink wink– they were flirting). Then he asked me if he could see what they were looking at. I was like “Sure, why not.” and took him into the house and to our backyard where the swamp cooler was. He said something and I quickly answered him pointing at the problem area and I noticed it took him a while to answer me. After a while he said “What?” in a very dumbfounded and airheaded way and my eyes shot to his direction only to notice his eyes were elsewhere: he was checking out my legs… Now, I was wearing a pair of short shorts, a tank top, and a pair of sandals, braless (not that he could tell, I was very well padded). All I can say is, wow, that was a first for me. To be so blatantly and obviously checked out is a little awkward. His eyes shot back up to mine and I shook my head with a strained smile and answered, “Nothing.” He was creepy. Short, blown up, and creepy. Or as Shawn Spencer would say, he was “On the Creepy Train headed for Creep Island where the natives drink Creep Nectar out of creepy coconut shells.”
So, this marks the end of my story. I lied about the psychiatrist, though I feel a little violated and like I should tell somebody where the scary man eyed me, but other than that everything is all good now. The house is cool and the smell is gone. I am not even going to mention how my nosey neighbor somehow got the ambulance to listen to her sad sob stories of how her husband died. They’d brought a gurney into her house because they thought something was wrong with her. There is. Just not in the way they had thought. Talk to you guys soon. — Sage 🙂
Forgive me if there’s typos. It’s 3 o’clock in the morning. I’ll read over it later and promptly fix it out of embarrassment.
(Image Resources: Google. Click the images to take you to where I found the pictures used in this post unless stated or insinuated otherwise)