Got a call from Kay a while ago, she had just gone to pick up her check from work and put it in the bank. (Still hard to get over her working and driving and all that!)
She’d gotten a block down the street. A friend of my son, we’ll call him D, lives down there. He’s kind of one of my adopted children. D was home alone, and his house had caught fire. I grabbed both house extinguishers and started to run down the street, hoping it was maybe a pot on the stove or something.
No. When she said “on fire”, she meant “on fire”. D was out and unhurt, spraying the garden hose in one of the front bedroom windows, but it was a battle he had no chance of winning. At the very most he might have slowed the fire a little until the fire companies got there – except it was already in the ceiling and attic. It was brave, if hopeless.
(More after the fold)