The real world...

My visit with my beau has been spanning a huge gulf from the wonderful to the mundane, though of course real life IS in the details.

On the 1st day of 2006 we were rearranging my bedroom (hey, I've got slave labor ;) While shifting around all eleventy hundred freking pounds of oak bedroom furniture I have my son, in the living room, started screaming. Not "I'm playing" screaming, not "I see a mouse" screaming, not even "holy shit I see a rat the size of a small dog" screaming, this was a scream of pure unadulterated terror and panic.

Les and I look up and to the (closed) door. Around the frame we can see the blue flashing of electrical arching/fire. My beau bolted the five feet to the door and squeezed himself through; the door was partially blocked with furniture. I, of course, was hot on his heels. The living room had the smell of burned wiring and (thanks the Gods) my son was NOT being electrocuted, which of course was my nightmare first thought.

I flipped all the breakers, grabbed the fire extinguisher and ran to my son. He was crying and shaking but unhurt. A wall socket had burned out in very dramatic fashion. James, my son, says fire shot almost a foot out of the wall, and given the blue strobe effect we could see from in my room and the scorching on the wall, I believe him.

A guy that lives in my area that builds new homes came over, removed the outlet, and made the wires safe for the night. An electrician came yesterday and replaced the socket.

Talk about exciting. Damn, I think I lost 5 years off my life that day.