Sunday found me at home this past weekend, taking it easy and relaxing before going back to the grind of work. I deliberately made plans not to do anything so I could have the day to myself. It was all going pretty much according to plan, too. I read some blogs, had breakfast at my leisure, chatted with friends online and snuggled with the dogs on the couch. Honestly, it was pretty much about the most perfectly relaxing day that you can imagine.
I imagine you all sitting there as you read this, figuring that of course this idyll couldn't have lasted, or I probably wouldn't be writing about it. You would be correct. In the middle of the afternoon as Mr. Taleteller and I sat watching a movie that we'd rented, we heard the sound of the fire truck sirens. That's a fairly common occurance, since the fire station, like most other things of import in our tiny village, is just two blocks down the street. However, it is very unusual for the fire truck to come down and stop right in front of our house. I looked at my husband and stated the obvious.
He looked at me doubtfully, as if I could be mistaken about a giant red truck parked in front of the house with red lights flashing on top. The girls were less hesitant to check it out. Bunny and Blueberry were at the door and front window to figure out what the deal was. Mr. Taleteller then got up, because obviously the dogs' word for it is more reliable than mine, and went to the door. He opened it and looked out. A second fire truck pulled up and then an ambulance, and we saw that a police car had arrived before the first fire truck. A niggle of concern started to work and we went outside to see if we could figure out what was going on. Perhaps the kid next door had finally gone mental. Maybe our yard was on fire and nobody told us. Could there be some other catastrophe that we were unaware of right outside our door?
By that point, most people in our vicinity had come by to see what the commotion was. It turns out that our next door neighbors, less than affectionately known in our town as The Village Idiots, had a gas leak in a space heater in a front bedroom. Much ado was made over the whole minor incident and after the ESDA man showed up with a more sensitive tester (why I'm not sure, since we could smell the gas on our front porch and in the living room) it was decided that the electric and gas company would be called out to shut off their gas. The fire department waited there until the gas man arrived.
After that, most of the village, along with Lilac and Blueberry, had given up interest in the goings on outside. Bunny, of course, stood sentry until the fire trucks were gone and I was sitting on the couch again after some checking on the garden outside. Apparently, it was just the right amount of excitement as far as she was concerned. She promptly curled up in my lap and took a nap. Sometimes life in a small town can be all the excitement that you need.
Keeping an eye on the neighborhood can be a taxing job, you know!
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