I had no plans.
Ok, that’s not true. I had BIG plans.
I had to go to the grocery store.
I had to fill my car with gas.
I had to read more of the “Game of Thrones” sequel: A Clash of Kings.
Like I said, BIG PLANS for my Friday night.
I got caught up at work, though. And found myself leaving at around 7:30pm which had me arriving a mi casa around 7:45pm.
(Why is this important? Because Mami had picked up Abuela at around 4, which means my house had been empty for around 4 hours.)
When I opened the door, the house smelled like someone had been cooking, but cooking something odd.
I shrugged and went to the kitchen to rinse my empty mug of café.
That’s when I smelled it: Gas.
I glanced at the stove. The burner was on, but there was no flame.
Off went the burner. On went the fan. Open went the doors and windows.
I figured I’d just run to the store and then I’d be fine.
My mistake was calling Mami just to double check…
“GET OUT OF THE HOUSE NOW!! CALL THE GAS COMPANY… FROM OUTSIDE!”
Nothing like an over-protective Cuban mother freak-out to bring drama to a Friday night.
I called the Gas Company. They would send someone out, but could not give me a time frame. Awesome.
To the garage I went and practiced my timbales for an hour. And then read. And texted Mami every ten minutes so that she knew I was fine.
At 9:30 Mr. Gas Company shows up.
He was a strange little man. Very nice, but talked a lot. And fast.
He pulled out his gas detection device (I swear it looked like he got it from the movie Ghostbusters) and got to work.
After having me explain what happened, he mentioned that he couldn’t smell gas anymore. I agreed.
Next he had to check behind the stove… which meant we had to pull it out.
It turned out there was a ridiculously tiny leak that had “probably been there for years.”
And he fixed it within 30 seconds. And was all happy that it was a super easy job. His last job for the night and it was so simple.
As we were pushing the stove back into place, Mr. Gas Company noticed the oven bar was loose so he grabbed his screwdriver and tightened it.
Me: Wow! Thank you! It’s been loose for a while, but I only notice when I’m actually USING the oven and it’s too hot to fix.
Mr. Gas Company: I TOLD you I would impress you.
And he explained that the gas I had smelled would not have hurt me, but it was good that I called anyway, if only because it ended his night on a good note. He handed me “An informational pamphlet… I don’t know.”
The man was cracking me up. Definitely an odd bird… I don’t think he had Asperger’s only because he was able to make eye contact, but maybe at his age he had learned to make some eye contact. Who knows?
He thanked me what seemed like a thousand times and left.
6 minutes later, he knocked on my door.
Mr. Gas Company: Sorry to bother you again. I just wanted to let you know that the gas you smelled was natural gas and it just rises and dissipates so just leave a window open for a while and you should be fine. You have nothing to worry about. It’s just natural gas that rises. It rises and then it dissipates.”
Me: So I don’t have to worry about blowing up tonight?
Mr. Gas Company: Shhh. We don’t like to use that word. But really, it just rises and dissipates. Would it be alright if I saw your drum set?
So I showed him my timbales and explained how they were Cuban drums. And made a short little sound on them…
Mr. Gas Company: Shhh! I didn’t ask for a demonstration! I don’t want your neighbors to get upset with you on my account! Thank you though. They are very beautiful. Sorry for the imposition! Thank you! Have a great night!
Me: It’s Friday night. I’m sure my neighbors are fine. Thank you, Mr. Gas Company!
Meanwhile, my mother had not stopped texting me.
Her new stove had arrived, but they couldn’t install it yet.
Mami: When was the last time we texted STOVE pictures back and forth?? All good?
Me: RIGHT? Yeap! Aparentamente the gas I smelled wouldn’t hurt me.
Mami: I didn’t think so, but then I’d hate for those to be famous last words. “I don’t think the gas smell will hurt me….” KABOOM! I’m glad it’s over. Also, I’m going to call you KABOOM from now on.
Just another Friday night Kikitiando con KABOOM.