A flash and a boom and a phone call; "Beepa, could you come over? It smells like we have an electrical fire, but we can't find it." A call like that gets your attention in a hurry! I grabbed a hammer, a crowbar, and a prybar, thinking I might have to break through a wall. Electrical fires have a distinctive pungent smell, and it hit me in the face as I walked in the door. The ceiling light in the kitchen was hanging by its wires, Matt having removed it moments before. Turns out it wasn't a lightning strike; little Nathan had flooded the upstairs toilet. Apparently, this has happened before, but not quite as completely as today. Water had seeped through the floor, dripped from the kitchen ceiling, and filling the light fixture. When Matt turned on the light, the water began to boil, just before the fixture began to smoke.
All's well that ends well, and this ended well. A trip to Home Depot, a new LED fixture, and a half hour's work, and they were back in the game. I am grateful tonight that a phone call that could have spelled disaster, but instead ended quietly with a thank you and a goodnight.
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