My rear window was open a bit to allow some air to freshen my condo, but not enough to let rain accumulate on my kitchen floor. A storm was thundering, lighting up Chicago’s lakefront skies.
Sick as wilted flower, I was propped up on the couch, zapped by the flu. Blankets warmed me as I watched Phil Donohue, on channel 7 T.V. , sharing his wisdom. A cup of tea in hand, I was relieved to be at home on this workday.
ZZZZZZZT! What was that loud sound? It was almost like the noise lightning would create when it hit something. Silence. I scrambled off the couch to check out my tiny studio apartment. Everything was fine. Maybe lightning had hit a rain gutter, descending harmlessly into the ground. With relief, I settled back under the blankets.
A few minutes later, an odor wafted up my nose. Smelled like something was burning. As I inspected the bathroom, my makeshift closet bedroom, the living room and the kitchen, I saw nothing. No flames, no smoke. That smell was getting stronger.
I apologetically dialed the fire department, explaining that I smelled smoke, but couldn’t see it, and there was no fire. The person on the other end of the line replied “I’m glad you called. We’ll be right over!” I met them in the lobby, because the buzzer to let them in was out of order. They dragged a hose through the courtyard and up 52 tiring steps. The lobby door was jammed open by shoving a hallway mat under it.
Reaching my unit, they examined it thoroughly, with the same results that I’d had. No smoke, no fire, no obvious damage. It was a mystery. They pulled the fridge away from the wall. No fire, and the outlet was fine. Searching onward, a firefighter shouted “Aha!” He stepped over to my gas stove, and ran his finger over its tiny clock. It was smudged with grey matter. Pulling my stove forward, they could get a look at the rear. The electrical cord was partially eaten up, burning outwards from the center – towards the stove and towards the wall’s outlet.
Lightning had barged through the window, zapped my stove, and set the electrical cord afire. He stated “It’s a good thing that you had a converter for the outlet, instead of just sawing off the 3rd prong. That kept the fire from spreading into your outlet, then flaming out all the wires in the wall in this building. The 1920s building’s wiring had not been updated, forcing me to use a safety plug. He also pointed to a toaster that was plugged in. Told me never to leave a toaster or iron plugged in when not in use. They could combust even when not turned on.
The building’s janitor burst into my home, uninvited, shouting at the firefighters about messing up the lobby and staircase carpeting with their hose. I told him to get out!
Never was I so grateful for being home, sick with the flu.
Beth's Class 