Sunday, November 23, 2014

A Place to Live

In the clean up path of the pie party, I turned on the auto clean of the oven on Thursday evening. I've cleaned the oven that way for the past 6 years here. While we were outside cutting boys' hair, the oven billowed black-gray smoke that filled the house like a foggy night. It was so smokey that Underfoot, Hurricane, and I slept in the back of the car. Sweetheart got home late from work, bundled up, and slept in an open windowed house. We have spent the last 72 hours cleaning our house literally from the ceiling to the floors with vinegar, baking soda, Mr. Clean soap, and whatever other concoctions there are. I went to restart the oven to push some lemon scent through the vents, and the oven died. I can't count how many loads of laundry I've done. Saturday evening we had a professional company come in and treat the house. We are grateful that it didn't turn into a fire. We are thankful to the people who came to help us wash down walls.

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