
I’d never had to call 911 until today. Tracie B and I were hanging around her apartment this afternoon and I was working on the final touches to my Italian cinema translation when we heard a smoke alarm sounding off. We were greeted by a waft of smokey aroma when we went outside.

Emergency services put me on the line with the fire department and it took them about 5 minutes to get here. They broke down the door of apartment 109 (across from Tracie B’s) and found a pot of beans burning on the stove. They told me that I did the right thing by calling, saying that the apartment could have easily been lost, as could have the apartment above it.
“It’s frequently beans,” said one of the fireman stoically.
The police came as well and so did a fire department Chaplain (above). He shook my hand before they left.
Thank goodness: everything worked out ok.
So, it was a neighbor’s beans burning?
Sadly, I do this a lot. But with hard boiled eggs–smells awful
Dang, now you’re a real Texas hero! Thaynk Yew!
Genevelyn, yes, I wrote the post too hastily: it was a neighbor’s apartment.
AC, I was waiting for the chaplain to give me a golden star but no such luck!
Ok, I feel better knowing you didn’t burn Tracie B’s fagioli!
beans don’t burn in my kitchen!
Trace-
sounds like a title for a blog post, girl!
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