Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Blowing up the House

As I sit here after midnight shivering, I decided blogging would be the best way to pass the time and because I am just a little freaked out over my inclination not to bother anyone could have killed us all. 

Or maybe this is where I realized I'm actually thankful that Bob's snoring woke me up. 

That part happens every night, and I'll wander off to another room to be able to keep sleeping. 

About an hour ago, when I did, I thought I smelled gas. 

This didn't make any sense to me, since I don't smell much of anything any more and certainly, I thought, I couldn't be smelling gas, upstairs, in the farthest room away from the kitchen. But I stumped downstairs trying to determine if I was dreaming the whole thing. (I can still smell in dreams.)

It wasn't any stronger that I could tell, but I was remembering the advice to never flip any switch if you suspect a gas leak, and it being midnight and all, just leaned in to check the burners. Nothing on, touched all the knobs that appeared to be in the same upright position (in the dark) and then stumped back upstairs telling myself it was all in my head. 

I curled up on Nick's bed and laid there. 

The conversation went a little like this for about twenty minutes, in between me trying to breathe deeply and assure myself I was wide awake.

"I'm still smelling gas."

"No, you're not. You haven't smelled gas or much of anything else in over five years. You're imagining things."

"I should wake up Bob and ask him if he smells anything."

"Don't be silly. You just checked the burners and you're just freaking yourself out over nothing."

Visions of the house going up in a ball of explosion kept replaying in my head, balanced by the idea that I would go wake up Bob who wouldn't smell a thing (and he's never lost his sense of smell) and bother him for nothing.

This is where I start to get really philosophical.

"Seriously? Are you so worried about putting him out that you'll risk killing everyone just so you aren't a bother? Isn't this precisely the point when your therapist would look at you like you really are crazy?"

So I threw the covers off and went back into the bedroom. I woke Bob up with the words, "Am I crazy, or do I smell gas?"

He got up without a word and started investigating. I heard him go downstairs and then flip the light on. I'm thinking, "well, he must not smell gas or he'd have never done that."

After a minute, he turns the light back off and climbs back up the stairs.

"So, nothing?"

"Oh, no, the burner wasn't lit but it was on. I turned it off. You have a good sniffer."

"No I don't!"

By this time, he's already back in bed and falling back asleep.


He may not even remember any of this in the morning.

I, on the other hand, am now thoroughly freaked out that I wasn't imagining things, and coming to grips with the realization that a few minutes ago I was really trying to fall back asleep just so I wouldn't bother anyone, as well as the thought, is he NUTS? He just went downstairs where the gas must've been leaking since dinner six hours and ago and turned on the lights?!? and wondering if I shouldn't get Sam, two dogs, three cats, and an already-snoring-again husband into the car and out of the house because . . .  holy crap . . .the gas has been leaking for six hours!

Instead, I go downstairs and open up the windows, and then Google "What to do when the gas has been left on" which doesn't do a whole lot to calm my nerves but does assure me that opening the windows was a wise move, despite it currently being 27°. (Side note: no one on the internet who has this "open your windows for a few hours" advice seems to ever imagine it being below freezing and dropping fast in the middle of the night.)

And here I sit, still replaying the idea that I might've talked myself into going back to sleep because I was imagining things and, tsk-tsk,  your imagination is always running away with you, why bother anyone else with your fantasies...

So as the house grows colder with every passing minute, but the smell does seem to be fading from my otherwise broken and useless nose, I'm going to be thankful for snoring, and therapists, and wild imagination.

And I that I might just manage to get back to sleep tonight.


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