The “brilliant” architect who originally designed our house back in the 1930s place the stove/oven on the wall facing the sink & window.. There is a door going up to the entry way in one of the remaining walls and the other has the opening to the dining “room” which is more of a dining nook and office space. Got it? What he missed was the need for a vent fan. Seriously! A stove without a fan? The ceiling is high, please keep that in mind.
When the major earthquake renovations where originally done when George bought the house, it was exterior, not really interior work. When we had the majority of the indoor work on the top level in 2014-5 the stove/oven was replaced. But, again, no vent system. Prior to insistence from our homeowners insurance company, we had minimum smoke detectors. That newly installed system resulted in numerous false alarms until certain people learned to open windows when cooking…
Fast forward to this morning. I think George got distracted while deciding to make french toast. End result? A bit of burned toast, smoke in the kitchen & the alarm going off. I never learned how to shut the bleeping thing off. George has forgotten. So he is desperately trying to open windows (see comment above). I came blasting downstairs, looked at him, and asked if he had called the Fire Department….. no? Please call them and tell them it is not an emergency. THEN open windows and doors…Priorities.
I opened the front doors and stood there with the alarm level only marginally more bearable. When I spotted the truck headed down the street on the other side of the divide, I closed the door and went down to meet the truck with its firemen. By the time we walked back up to the house, the alarm had shut itself off. Lots of apologies, they turned down the offer of french toast, and they headed back down the hill.
I went to shut the deck door. Deck door open. No one watching it.
Where is the cat?
Not upstairs, not in any of his usual hiding places that I could see. Right before I went into a full panic, George found him in the TV room hiding on the bottom shelf behind a pile of kids books. The door to the room had been shut which is probably the only reason he was still in the house. Once discovered, he dashed across the hall and went under our bed. Even treats weren’t enough to coax him out at first.
I think that is enough excitement for one day.
And yes, the french toast was good, even if a little singed around the edges. Made with challah from the Cheese Board.
