How Things Can Go Terribly Wrong in a Matter of Minutes

Or, perhaps I should subtitle this post "Why My House Smells Like Smoke".

Friday nights are usually pizza nights. (Ok, so since this blog is about honesty, so are the nights I don't feel like cooking.) Zack (the dog) was being especially persnickity Friday night and was convinced that he was going to get him some pizza. His jumping on the cabinets to try for the pizza was really annoying me. So, I fixed his wagon and put the pizza box in the oven.

And, in the process I about fixed my wagon, too.

Fast forward to Monday night. I actually cooked. (Insert "Hallelujah" chorus here ... and a loud shout of "Amen!" from Dean.) My cooking involved the oven. I turned on the oven to preheat, much like I have a billion times since I have been married. (I do like to cook, it just isn't always my favorite thing. I am no Emeril.) I went about my cooking. And, suddenly smelled smoke.

And, here is why I can't be on the arson squad. I thought the smoke was coming from Dean's laptop, which he was using on the kitchen island. I was actually convinced. Then, I thought perhaps the garbage was on fire. Why? Who knows. Dean looked at the oven and in an instant we both thought the same thing. (Which sometimes happens when you have been married for 17 years.)

The pizza box!

I opened the oven door and a billow of smoke came out. Dean rushed to action. I turned in circles ... which probably means my dreams of being a firefighter are out too. He grabbed the smoking pizza box and ran it outside.

Meanwhile, Torrey was in with Gram. As she sat on her bed, she had a front row view of Dean putting out the pizza box on the driveway. She said, "Gram, would you look at Daddy!" ... and, went back to watching TV with Gram. Which gives the impression we have burning pizza boxes in our house a lot. We don't.

It has been 24 hours and the downstairs still smells a little of smoke. I told Dean it smelled like someone was lighting matches this morning and he said, "Yeah, a thousand matches."

But, we are OK. And, lessons have been learned. Like why didn't the smoke detectors go off? And, where ARE the smoke detectors? And, don't leave pizza boxes in the oven ... EVER! And, perhaps I should take some fire safety classes. And, when starting the oven, just make sure nothing is inside the oven. And, maybe a little pizza for Zack isn't so bad .... well, maybe it is. Sorry Zack!