Last night I was lazy. I didn’t feel like cooking anything complicated. Instead, I decided I’d just stick a burger under the broiler. If the man likes burgers and fries when we’re out, then why wouldn’t he like them at home, right?
After a few minutes, I heard noises. Noises that you’re not supposed to hear coming from your oven. A wood burning stove, maybe, but not that broiler inside my oven. I turned around and noticed the oven was unusually bright. Yep, that would be due to the flames shooting up. Is this what they mean by “Flame Broiled”?
When I opened the oven door, flames shot out of it. It’s amazing the knobs weren’t completely melted off. That would have been a much better photo but I was a bit busy at the time.
As a result of the little fire, there was also a bit of smoke to accompany the flames. Well, more than a bit. Enough to set off the fire alert thingie. It was then that I discovered 2 things:
- My dog isn’t completely deaf.
- If there is ever a real fire and I need to be saved by my dog, well we’d be burnt to a crisp before that would happen.
My dog, the one who is not afraid of thunder or fireworks was terrified of the alarm. He had an accident. I sent him outside to clean up. Afterwards, we attempted to get him to come back inside. “No way,” he said, “I’m not coming back in there. That’s where the bad, scary noise was.”
Yep, if the house was on fire, we wouldn’t have Lassie to drag us out of the house and save us. Nicky would probably behave like my parents’ dog, Sammy, who was afraid of thunder. He’d run into the bathroom and hide in the tub.
