Fire Drill - August 11

It was a typical Monday, work was non-stop, I came home exhausted. Took the dog for a walk, went to the gym to lift. Came home around the same time as my hubby. We chatted briefly and discussed dinner. It was decided that he would help out and cook a frozen pizza while I went for a three mile run. Easy enough one would think.
The very end of my three mile run consists of a 10th of a mile sprint, and then a 10th of a mile cool down. I use the streets to mark my distances. I start sprinting when I turn onto a road that runs perpendicular to the road that abuts my house. I push until I cross the intersection, then I walk down my road.
As I approached my sprint road, I saw a fire truck pulling out. I giggled to myself. It would be a suitable ending to a not-so-fantastic day if Joe had burned down the house in my absence. As I came to the end of my sprint, I got a glimpse of another fire truck. This one was parked in front of my neighbors house. It wasn’t funny anymore. I forgot about my cool down walk and ran an even fast tenth then the last. Neighbors were parading down the small street in droves. Trying to get a look at the situation I suppose. You can always count on people to be nosey. I didn’t notice their faces because I was too focused on the house. I spotted two firemen coming out of the back door of the house. No on seemed alarmed which was calming, but I was concerned that perhaps they put the fire out a while ago, and they were assessing the damage. After all, I had been gone for a while, and I wasn’t sure when Joe started cooking the pizza. As I took my final few bounds toward the house Joe walked out with the dog. Two questions settled, they were both OK. No visible injuries. I was hesitant to ask what had happened for fear that my beautiful kitchen, the one we searched 30 houses to find, was destroyed. God was looking out for us that day. There was no damage to the kitchen. Damage to Joe’s ego was a separate issue.
Apparently as he heated the pizza, flames broke out in the oven. He smelled the smoke and checked out the situation. Instinctively he turned off the oven. Once he saw that he couldn’t put the fire out he grabbed the phone and the dog and headed outside. It’s a gas stove and you can’t be too careful. By the time the firetrucks arrived, the fire had gone out.
So much for a typical Monday.