pameladean | Unwanted excitement

So the pilot light in the upstairs oven has been out for a while. I kept meaning to relight it, but I am stupidly afraid of natural gas; and more to the point, I couldn't find the location of the pilot hole. It was in a readily evident place on our previous stove and on the old downstairs stove, but I couldn't find it on the upstairs stove, despite repeated usage of a flashlight and of various strange postures. I finally believed that I had found it, but it was way in the back of the oven. Lydy and I had each set our hair on fire shortly after we moved into this house, lighting pilot on the old downstairs stove, which was right in the front of its oven; so I just kept putting it off, and when I needed an oven I would carry a pan of lasagna or roasting vegetables or macaroni and goat cheese or cornbread down the stairs, which wasn't hard, and then up the stairs when it came out of the oven, which was harder, especially as Ninja frequently accompanied me to see if I would let him upstairs to play with Cassie.

This evening I came upstairs after feeding and playing with the visiting cats, and smelled gas as soon as I came into the library. It might have been an overripe litterbox, but I didn't think so. I went grimly into the kitchen, with the smell of gas getting stronger, and opened the oven. Yep. I had never smelled gas at all in all the time the pilot had been out, so I felt something must have gone wrong somewhere.

I told Raphael, and looked up what to do on the Centerpoint Energy website. They said to get out of the house and call them and call 911. I felt that this was excessive. I called them; while I was on hold, Raphael asked if it was time to box up cats, and I said it was. Raphael got Saffron boxed. A woman answered the phone at Centerpoint. She asked me a bunch of questions, which I answered, said a technician would be along as soon as possible, told us not to use the phone again or turn on or off any light switches or other appliances; and strongly recommended that we get out of the house. I encountered Cassie fleeing from the open carrier, shook the food bag to lure her, scooped her up and handed her to Raphael.

Then I went down to the basement and woke David up. He asked if all the knobs on the stove were turned off firmly. Yes, they were. He got up, understandably annoyed. I started hunting for cat carriers. We have two medium-large ones upstairs, which Raphael had put Saffron and Cassie into. We have three small ones downstairs. Arwen is too large for those but they are fine for the other three residents. We also have two very very large carriers that Raphael got to move Jordan and Minou of beloved memory from Arizona to Minneapolis. Lydy often uses one of these to take both younger kittens to the vet. I couldn't find that one. I found a small one in Lydy's office and gave it to Raphael, who caught Ninja or Nuit and put him/her in and took it out. I found another small one in the basement. David pointed Nuit out to me, and I captured her with much hissing on her part and put her into the other small one and gave her to the returning Raphael. I unearthed the generally-unused gigantic carrier from under a stack of laundry baskets and put Naomi into it. I texted Lydy demanding to know where the other carriers were. She was at work, so I didn't feel I could call her. Arwen had vanished. David began to look for her. As I went through the living room, all the visiting cats came out. I retrieved the single cat carrier belonging to them, and they all vanished, too.

I hunted for the goddamn remaining small and gigantic cat carriers and could not find them. Not being able to turn on lights was unhelpful. David went upstairs and reappeared to say that he could not smell gas. I said I really, truly had, and went on looking for cat carriers. I almost caught Grout as I went by, but she eluded me. On another pass through the living room I almost got Mora. I went out to check in with Raphael, who was keeping the cats company on the front sidewalk. The technician arrived and went upstairs. I called out the location of the kitchen to him, but perhaps he didn't hear me over the beeping of his meter. He came back down and asked someone to show him the kitchen. He seemed much more blase than the woman on the phone. I went up with him, showed him the kitchen, and at his request moved all the pots and dishes and stuff from the stove-top. He checked whether the burner pilots were on, as I had; then he opened the broiler and checked inside it with a flashlight.

Then, while removing a long thin telescoping device and a box of matches from his pocket, he told me that Centerpoint had put too much odor in the gas today, and asked if the person on the telephone had told me that. No, actually, she hadn't. He re-lit the oven pilot, which was way way way in the back of the broiler. He said it certainly was stinky in the upstairs, but his meter didn't show gas accumulation. It only smelled strongly of gas because they had over-odorized the gas and there was a tiny amount from the unlit pilot. He recommended leaving a couple of windows open, apologized for any inconvenience, and went his way.

I went back outside, and took Ninja and Nuit in their little carriers into the media room, where I discovered David holding onto a very annoyed and wriggly Arwen. He said he couldn't hold her much longer and had been wondering where I was and where the other cats were being put. I said outside on the sidewalk, which information he received with the kind of disbelief only possible to people who have been awakened from a sound sleep and couldn't actually smell the gas. He let Arwen go. I explained what the technician had said. I let the little kittens out of their carriers. Nuit's had apparently not been used for some time: she was covered in cobwebs. Raphael took the upstairs cats back upstairs. I brought Naomi in in her gigantic carrier and let her out. She was not covered in cobwebs. David opined that Nuit was a good cat to dust the carrier, but that Nomi would have done a better job. This was in fact the case, given that Naomi is larger and furrier. Either the disused gigantic carrier was not full of cobwebs or it was so large that she could not dust it in the time provided.

I apologized for not letting David know what was going on for so long. He went back to bed. I came upstairs.

I am going to get more cat carriers.

Pamela

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

vgqn.livejournal.com

"Centerpoint had put too much odor in the gas today"

Ack! Ack! Ack!

I mean, I KNOW that gas is explicitly scented because the actual noxious gas is unscented, but damn! You would think that you could trust their advisory process. Damn them.

So glad that all's well that ends well, but still. At least you know how to relight the pilot now. Practice that skill until it is automatic.

From:

eub.livejournal.com

And now I'll wonder if some days they put too little odorant in the gas.

Unwanted excitement

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