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My mother called me frantically Sunday morning because her house was filled with smoke. Not just a little, the smoke ceiling was about waist high and smoke was leaking out of the roof on both stories. The short version of this tale is that the heat pump motor had fried its insulation and THAT was the source of smoke and the electrical fire smell in the house. Thank God that was "all" that was wrong.
The long version involves the fact that my mother used to run an antique shop and she is a pack rat (so am I, so that's not an accusation on my part) and the fire fighters had to climb over antique furniture, dragging heavy DRIPPING hoses, and use their axes to chop holes in the walls and ceilings (which means insulation & sheetrock dust/fragments) rained down on everything while they checked walls and closed-off attic spaces for smoke.
Turns out mom closed off the upstairs ductwork because no one was living up there anymore. When the smoke hit the pressure of closed ductwork, it forced itself through a loose connection and that's why the smoke got into the attic space. Otherwise it was just pumping smoke through the downstairs part of the house. When she noticed the smoke, she shut everything off, but well-insulated houses with heat pumps create positive air pressure in the house and smoke will just naturally find a way out -- even through asphalt roof shingles.
My brother, his lady, my sister, her husband, a cousin, my mother, and I have been cleaning and hauling away things that should have been hauled away 10 years ago -- but are damaged now anyway. We're making the house clean from wall to wall -- no more piles. Everything on a shelf or in a drawer or labeled box. We're not done. Not by a long shot. But ALL the clothes, linens, bedding, drapes, pillows have to be laundered because of the smoke smell -- even things that were in drawers are tainted.
And she's got to replace her heat pump motor at the least -- and it's COLD tonight.
My advice to everyone (and I'm taking my own advice here as soon as we are done at my mother's house) is to stand at your front door and picture black smoke, a dozen men with fire hoses, and AXES, and then start thrashing around and throwing things out. It's easier to do now, than after a visit from your friendly local fire department.
WayehMalamutes: And a good reason to adapt Zen thinking about one's possessions.
I checked out your website. I lost my own 14 year old malamute earlier this year. I have lived through so many dog lifetimes, but I don't remember one who influenced me as much as this one. The breed standard, says Dignity. She certainly had that. It was an honor to have known her.
I feel the same way about my seniors -- the youngsters are just goofy, but the old farts have that way of lifting their regal heads and looking at you like... Where, oh where is my servant when I want a cookiee?
Cracking myself up as Bandit (13yo) pushes my elbow so hard I can't type!
Servant, oh, Servant!
I figured out a long time ago that if there is a disaster, get the things out that have heartbeats, then the computer box and laptop, then the box marked SAVE ME IN CASE OF FIRE, and the rest can be replaced.
My malamute was a rescue dog, so she was already regal when I got her. A friend of mine found her in the woods behind her home in Tuscaloosa. The dog kept coming to her kids windows at night, looking in. My friend couldn't keep the dog, so she brought her to me. I always wondered what she was like as a puppy.
I have looked at the pictures of your dog runs. It looks like you have "getting organized" down pretty well. My dog had to stay home without me quite a lot. I worked at a house museum a few doors away. I still have reminders that she wanted to get out and come and greet the visitors. They were scared to death of a dog that looks like a wolf. Also she was big--as tall as I am (5'6") when she stood on two legs. I still have some windows to repair before winter, that she thought she could escape if she broke the panes. POW. POW. Let me out of here!
