That Time I Almost Burned My New House Down

"The mere fact that you have obstacles to overcome is in your favor..."  ~Robert Collier

Okay, the title here is a bit dramatic.  The house didn't really "almost" burn down.  The oven, however, did catch on fire and I had to call 911 and get the fire department out here.  Yep.  That happened.

Before we start, I want to make clear that this was NOT my fault.  I know we have talked before about the fact that my cooking frequently sets off the smoke alarm, but for real, this time it was not on me.  Here's how it went down.

I decided to make this recipe for broccoli chicken pockets which sounded amazing (can't tell you whether they are or not, as you will understand in a minute) one night for dinner.  It was my first time using the oven in my new house, so I pop them in and am sitting in my office unpacking and few things and talking to The Boy from Texas on the phone.  I turn around and notice a small fire in the bottom of the oven.  Not to worry, I figured that something had dripped down previously and was just smoldering.  I turn off the oven, figure I'll clean it, and call it good.

After I turned it off, I look down and see I have a much bigger problem-o going on than I thought.  The are sparks flying out of the heating coil in the bottom of the oven.  Looked like someone was welding in there kind of sparks.  So at this point I realize I have an issue, I tell The Boy from Texas, "I have to go, my kitchen is on fire" and hang up on him.  (He now points out that may not have been the best thing to tell someone before you hang up on them and not call back for an hour....)

I tried to deal with it myself, opened the oven door to get a better look, tried to find a fire extinguisher, thought it would just go away, but it didn't.  It got worse.  So I call my parents' house and my mom tells me not to put water on it (duh) and to throw flour on it.  I thought this seemed strange, but at this point I was running out of options.

Flour was not the right decision, turns out.  That just fueled the fire and caused massive flames.  So now I closed the door to the oven and accepted that I had to call 911.  Cue panicked dispatcher who kept saying to "GET EVERYONE OUT OF THE HOUSE!"  It's just me, lady, and it's not an inferno or something in here.

I did, however, grab my laptop, phone and a Cliff Bar (What?  I'm an emotional eater, okay?) and back my car out of the garage so that I could live in there if the house did burn down.

Okay, back to the story.  It dawned on me I should unplug the oven so it didn't explode or something.  Problem:  the plug in is behind the burning oven.  Not crawling back there.  At this point, my dad called back to tell me to go throw the breaker.  Once I did that, the fire was out.  Phew.

About that time two fire trucks and an ambulance show up on my front lawn.  "Hi, neighbors.  I've been here a week and I'm that person.  Everyone stare."  Awesome.  So the firemen looked it over, I apologized, and we went on our way.

Oh, yea, I texted The Boy from Texas and told him I was okay.  He proceeded to lecture me about buying a house without looking at it and being more careful with things.  Wrong thing to say in this situation, for the record.  Wrong thing to say.

So, what have we learned here?  (1) For a grease fire, use flour or baking soda.  (2) For an electrical fire, throw the breaker.  (3)  When you buy a new house, be sure you have a fire extinguisher on hand.  (4) Know where your breaker box is located.  (5) Two minutes after a girl almost burns her house down is not the time give her a lecture.

Oh, and  I still have not tasted that recipe, so someone with an oven should try it out and let me know how it is.