I Almost Burned Down My House
On Friday night, I almost burned down my house when I set the oven on fire. Flames leaped out when our friend Jack opened the broiler pan drawer then oven door. The fumes were toxic. That’s when I realized what had happened…and that I was responsible.
It was our 40th wedding anniversary and we had our friends Jack and Sandy over to help us celebrate, to make pizza from scratch, and to play cards.
My back was aching a bit from helping Greg pick up the house. He did the vacuuming. I’m beginning to walk a few steps with my cane, but still fear getting tangled and falling over the hose. It happened before. A dog water bowl in the hall to the laundry room was involved too, and staples in my skull were required. I still haven’t fixed the wall.
So, I was just finishing up patting out the fresh dough pizza crusts when our friends arrived. I stood to get hugs as they brought in their contributions to the meal. I stepped over to preheat the oven up to 450 degrees. The kitchen is pretty safe for me to walk unassisted with lots of counters and tall-backed chairs to steady me when my balance wobbles. I sat at the kitchen table to continue my pizza artistry when I saw the flames and thick black smoke billowing out of the oven’s every vent and opening.
“Look! Fire!” I was first to see it.
Jack reached to open the door and nearly got singed. More flames shot out of the drawer. Greg was right behind with the extinguisher but couldn’t get it to work.
“Is the oven off?” I called out.
Greg had already turned off the propane feeding the flames. Jack punched buttons to be sure. Black smoke filled the room. Something was still burning. We looked at each other. What do we do?
Jack called out, “Baking Soda.”
Greg asked, “Will a wet towel work?”
As he disappeared into the hall to the laundry room, I called after him, “Get a dog towel. Not one of my good ones.”
I opened the upper cabinet door next to the stoves and saw the baking soda on the third shelf up, thinking how glad I was not to be in my power wheelchair. Everyone would be tripping over me as I tried to get out of the way. The box was high and pushed back just enough that I strained my already stressed back to get it but was so glad I did. When I handed it to Jack, he shook most of the box into the pan, then opened the oven door for Greg to through the soaking towel inside to douse the flames still leaping up through the vents. Then, as fast as it had started, it was out.
The noxious fumes remained seeping into every room. Everyone ran to a door or window to open to the cold, rainy night air. Then Greg turned on the fans over the table. I covered the veggie pizza on the table with a dishtowel. Greg covered the meat one on the counter. I saw Sandy covering her mouth with her shirt, heading out onto the covered front porch. It was too cold and damp on the rainy night to stay out for long, so she hung out in the doorway. I found the masks we picked up from my various doctors’ offices and handed the zipped baggie to Sandy.
“I’m so sorry.” I was beyond embarrassed. “Does it hurt? Can you breathe?”
“I’m okay now. It burned the back of my throat at first.”
Greg found a fan on a stand to push more of the burnt plastic fumes out.
I caught his eye and confessed. “It was the microwave covers you bought. I’d thought it was a good idea to store them in the broiler drawer. I had no idea it would get that hot. I guess I forgot they were in there.”
He nodded affirming my explanation. “Only one.” He pointed to the other plastic cover sitting on the counter near the front door.
As the air cleared, we closed some of the doors, leaving two windows open and turned the fans down to medium. I checked to be sure both Killian, our 7 YO GSD and JD our 17 YO gray cat hadn’t been chased outside by the commotion. JD wouldn’t have fared well with the weather and the barn cats hanging around on both front and back decks.
To save the dinner, we came up with a strategy to get both pizzas cooked: one on the grill on the covered front porch, and one in the toaster oven. They turned out great! We even had enough energy after eating to play three games of Euchre (us girls won two!) before calling it an evening to remember...and to laugh about.
Over the next few days, Greg and I were able to clean the oven, the broiler pan drawer, and the vent hood, buckets of soapy water and rags covered in the black soot all thrown out. The stove seems fine. We’ll check the oven after we replace the inside light bulb and after we catch our breath. So, no harm, no foul. All turned out okay and I was thrilled to be able to stand well enough to reach the top shelf to grab the box of baking soda even as the flames licked out next to me.
If you are interested in getting my wholewheat pizza dough recipe, just drop me a note. I did have the advantage of a KitchenAid mixer with a dough hook that does all the kneading along with a dehydrator that give the dough the perfect place to rise, but those are unnecessary to have a good result with this recipe.
Glad everything turned out alright! I've done something similar so don't feel bad. And I loved the mention of Euchre...people on the East Coast don't seem to know this game and we played it all the time growing up and in college!