When French Fries Attack

Currently sitting in what was once our lovely new kitchen is a big hulking contraption designed to remove unseemly odors from a residence.  In this instance the machine has been removing the smell of smoke.

On Wednesday I was at work helping to prepare for a visit from our District Manager and dealing with one of our managers (who has the tendency to work himself up into a frantic frothy lather at the littlest provocation).  When he's in this state I find him wholly amusing and a tad bit exhausting, reminding him to just take a deep breath because we'll get the list done.  The phone rings and I'm informed that it is for me.

I never rarely get phone calls when I'm at work.  A phone call only portends that a disaster has occurred and I'm about to receive some unsettling news.

Unsettling indeed.  It was Mack informing me that Captain Oblivious had set the kitchen on fire making french fries and it was "bad".  From his description it seemed that the entire kitchen was gone.  He had to let me go because the fire department was there.  End call.

My first inclination was to high tail it out of work.  Because let's face it... I was worried and a tad bit pissed.  But leaving would have left my manager in one hell of a predicament and if left to his own devices he would have quickly surpassed the frantic frothy lather and gone straight into full panic mode.  I can only imagine what the next stage to his self induced panic would have consisted of.  However, I'm pretty sure it would not have been pretty.

So I stayed at work because it gave me time to calm down and rationalize that it could have been much worse:  that at least Mack and the kid are okay. Upon returning home I immediately head straight for the kitchen to see the damage for myself.

In this case, all the worse case scenarios that I had formulated in my head far surpassed the actual damage.  In my mind I pictured a sopping wet sooty mess with walls missing, melted carpet and the entirety of the house covered in soot.  Thank goodness that I had the opportunity to imagine the worse case scenario before I actually confronted the reality.

As I stood there examining the melted front of the microwave, charred cabinet fronts (just above the stove) and the soot covering the ceiling and walls I again concluded that it could have been much worse.  With a tad bit more humor than I should have allowed in my voice I asked Mack how it all transpired.  I was horrified to find out that Mack had thrown water onto a grease fire.  Hello? You don't throw water on a grease fire.  You smother a grease fire.

So after hearing the events of the evening I relayed to Mack my thoughts about the entire situation: "it isn't that bad".  He took a tad bit of offense and told me it was bad when you're the one putting out the flames. 

Meh.  It could have been worse, y'all ;)

I inquired as to where Captain Oblivious had gotten himself off to and was told he had gone to bed early.  For my own satisfaction I needed to verify with my own eyes that my kid was indeed okay.  I believe I woke him from a pretty sound slumber.  He assured me he was okay but of course with a teenager's bravado did not let on that he was in the least bit scared.  I then asked him if he knew the proper way to put out a grease fire. 

"Salt, Mom.  But it was behind a wall of flames."  Fair enough, I conceded, but asked if there was anything else that could be used.  The kid literally smacks his forehead as he says "flour".  Gotta give him that... the kids is smart.  Apparently not too good under pressure but I will give him a solid B+ for even remembering that you're not supposed to throw water on a grease fire.  I'll lay down money that if he ever plays part in a grease fire again that he remembers the flour. 

Hell, I bet Mack will remember too :)