So, today there's this slight burning smell in our stairwell. It has replaced the cabbage-y/sewage-y smell that usually greets us at random moments and has been going on for almost four years.
I've always told myself that it's someone cooking in the downstairs apartments. And, even though our steps are on the inside of the apartment, the smell never reaches the top of them, so -shrug- what's to complain about? After years of loud music, wailing infants, cockroach invasions, lawn parties, and people parking behind my car in the double driveway then getting mad if I want to leave after they go to bed, this I can live with.
Although... I find it hard to believe I've had the same neighbours for as long as I've lived here. And... there was that one time when the closet next to the bathroom had the same kind of smell. Lasted a day or so then went away. Maybe that cabbage soup diet is making a comeback?
I'll admit it: I didn't smell anything burning this morning. I staggered out of bed and thought, "something smells a bit... dead." Like the time back in Texas when I thought I could wait until morning to bury Snout and Snowflake's two newborn gummies. Just a hint of a whiff of a something's-not-right.
But this afternoon when Mike and I were in the car - having raced to Sunset Station to pick up our free silicone baking pans and ceramic casserole dishes, plus chomped some surprisingly pleasant 2-for-1 buffet at lunch prices (now with ravioli and hamburger station) - he mentioned smelling a "burnt" smell this morning and again when he came home.
Hmm. We came home and didn't smell anything, but it was a fast trip up the stairs since somebody (not me) is overdue for a doc appointment and has meanwhile run out of IBS medication. (Too much info? Sorry.)
Then we had to go out because Mike had a school function and I was driving him. He opened the door to stand outside while I was was coming downstairs. I was wiggling into my clogs when he said, "Jeez, why's it so hot?"
That's when we discovered that the exterior wall of an adjoining apartment was sending out waves of heat. Like, Mike touched one particularly hot spot and his hand was still sore 10 minutes later.
Okay, so the setting sun does, sort of, hit that wall. But it also hits several other walls, much more directly. They were all "regular" temperature. But this wall? The same wall that, once part our front door, becomes one side of our stairwell? You could stand two feet away and feel the cloud of heat.
Mike went to the office and they called our favourite maintenance man, but their reaction wasn't comforting. We had to leave to get to Mike's event, but since it's just down the road I was able to come back within 15 minutes.
I felt all of the nearby exterior walls again. Was it just a fluke of nature? I liked that explanation but, wow, a blasting heat? Better take some precautions just in case.
I went around to the neighbour's door and knocked. No answer. (Does anyone else play the "I wonder what it looks like I'm selling?" game when they have to do this. Alas, I decided I look like the kind of person who is going to try to push some bogus hard luck story, like the dweebs who approach you at the gas station and who "just need a little gas money to get to _______." One, why don't they leave or buy gas after someone gives them money? Two, why do they look peeved when I tell them to call the police and ask for help? Three, why don't they realize that other people are doing the same scam ALL OF THE TIME? The big joke is that there's probably some angel who keeps throwing opportunities in my path to be charitable and I'm just pissing it all away with my cynicism, and now I'm going to burn in hell.... or this apartment, which I guess I should get back to talking about.)
I happen to hear the maintenance guy show up. It's not "my" guy - it's some guy who is far too into his cigarette. He glances at one of the outside AC units, briefly touches the cord, and looks a little put out. He's not even in uniform. (The apartment office isn't even closed. I suspect this is just some resident who gets $50 off his rent for doing odd jobs.)
I explain everything above, about why it seems unusual despite being somewhat in the sun's path, about how long I've lived here, about the burning smell, and even though I keep referencing this heat coming from the wall, right here, he won't even step into the warmth. He doesn't even touch the wall in question.
"The sun hits the wall," he shrugs, like he has to deal with idiots all day who say, "Oh! Okay! Thanks!"
I go through my spiel again, but he says, "Their AC is running. It's all fine."
Okay - that's just stupid. You can't even continue a conversation with that kind of stupid. That's, like, capitalize-the-s-because-it's-surely-trademarked Stupid. He shrugged again, smiled in a "I'm a saint because I tolerate dopey chicks like you" kind of way, and shambled off.
However, this exchange did remind me that this apartment's AC wasn't running when we noticed the problem, which is far more reassuring than being told there can't be any problem, especially fire, because someone's AC is running.
What can I do? Maybe it is the sun? I don't mind being wrong if it means I can be safe.
Still, I'm glad we just replaced the battery for the smoke detector on that side of the apartment. (Not because either one of us is that conscientious, but because it was making that annoying beep.) Plus, our fire extinguisher just had its annual inspection on Tuesday. (In fact, it's still at the head of the stairs, waiting to be put away in the kitchen again. Future ironic anecdote for after the disaster?)
Back inside and upstairs, I thought I caught a little scent of burning? No, it was gone. Wait-... No. Probably just paranoia.
Now there's nothing to do but wait for the part where I walk outside, feel a cold wall, and share a foolish laugh with Mike. (Then I can stop thinking about those bad smells over the years, and how they could point to a plumbing issue in the walls, and that maybe something icky has now caught fire in the clogged pipes. I don't know if this is even allowed by the laws of Housing Physics and Chemistry, but since no one is going to take us seriously about this, I may as well live it up in Kookyland.)
Anyway, the whole shebang has made me think: what's the quick evacuation plan?
I've imagined scenarios before, but I've never actually stood in the room and worked out how I'm really going to get nine hamsters out of six hamitats then leap from the balcony.
I still don't really have a plan. I put my wallet, cell phone, and keys by the balcony door. I packed the camera bag, but that's only useful if it's one of those slow motion fires where I can get the hamsters out, climb down the ladder that magically appears, then climb back up for a few worldly goods. (Why not the laptop before the camera? What, and miss a chance to upgrade?)
No, the hamsters are the thing. Renter's insurance doesn't cover unreaping little rodent souls.
I have no idea how we'd all get down from the balcony. It's all gravely xeriscaping and stucco. Ow. Remind me to buy some rope to keep out there. (I bet there's already an "instant fire escape" ladder-type product that everyone knows about but me. If not, whoa, cha-ching. Remind me to develop one and make an infomercial.)
But, even with the rope and ladders, how do I even gather up all the hamsters? They might not understand that it's an emergency and therefore no one is to start a rumble or make babies. Suddenly my vague "toss them all in a small Rubbermaid bin" plan seems quite foolish, especially since I've had year after year of not having to think quickly under flame-y duress to come up with a plan.
Well! I'm very proud to share what I came up with.
Rubbermaid storage bin that can be held with one hand? Yes. But! It needs to be divided at least six ways. How? And, because I'm still uneasy tonight, it needs to be constructed now.
Last year, South Point casino gave away a bunch of free barware. You didn't even have to play - they were just cool like that. And then they smartened up and stopped. But, thanks to that year of riches, we are set for turkey-themed platters, plates, salt and pepper shakers, gravy boats, carving sets, plus martini, wine, and champagne glasses, I tell you what. All we need is for the Wynn to give away an oak dining table and the Bellagio to throw in some matching chairs, and we will be unstoppable. Mike will get a job in advertising and wear a hat, and I will load the pantry with cream of mushroom soup. Later, the pills and Glimmer Twins will come.
Boxes! I decided that if I could fit six boxes into the plastic storage container, this would be perfect. But where could I find six boxes to fit a 15x10ish-inch area? Boxes that would be tall enough to thwart even Cricket's mad leaping?
Ah, the barware glasses! Oh, thank you for being individually wrapped! Never again will I frown in memory of having to go out there every week to pick up a single glass for each of us.
It's perfect. The six tall boxes are now in the container and ready to go. I just have to get the hams to cooperate by standing at attention when I yell, "Fire!" (That may make even more money than my Ropes for Balcony Dwellers idea.)
Oh, not good. I wonder what is happening in that apt? In the meantime -
http://www.firstalert.com/safety_products_item.php?pid=55
Why doesn't your apartment have a fire escape?!?!
My husband keeps a bag under the bed with a change of clothes in it and assorted other items for a quick getaway. Of course, we don't have a fire escape ladder either. This reminds me, I should check it and see if my 'emergency' clothes still fit. I'm willing to bet they're several sizes too small. Too much cake. :)
Posted by: Heather in PA | 17 October 2008 at 05:09 AM
you DO realize that the longer you go without posting the more I'm thinking the worst has occurred?! ...I hope all are well !!!
Posted by: heather in pa | 22 October 2008 at 02:44 PM
I know - I'm so sorry! Plus, there seems to be no actual danger-drama after all so... *blush* The heat pocket has moved on and the burning smell is gone. Who knows?
I could at least Twitter. Geez. I did update my Goodreads list on the right, but everyone (both of you) is probably too scared to look there ever since I added that romance novel. It's like having to look away when someone has a booger hanging out of their nose. Check back. Look away. Check back. Look away. Debate saying something. Move on.
(But - I updated Goodreads to include a CAKE book!)
(And, in case this is like the library and I'm getting charged for every day I don't post after a neurotic cliffhanger, let the record show that I actually wrote today's post last night, but I couldn't upload the video. YouTube was spazzing. I suppose Fate didn't want anyone to be kept awake by the sight of our bland kitchen. Fate is always looking out for the unsuspecting like that.)
(CAKE book!!!)
Posted by: Shari | 22 October 2008 at 06:54 PM