Late morning I needed to make a trip to the grocery store for a few things. Our lunchtime was about 45 minutes away, so I put a pot of fish stew on low so it would be warm and ready to eat by the time I got home, and off I dashed. I got back on the dot but when I opened the door there was an odd, unpleasant smell. Rob was putting on his shoes to take Izzy out for a quick walk but stopped and described to me how he was back in the office working when his head started to ache and he began feeling sick. Eventually he went into the kitchen and discovered that there was no flame beneath the soup pot; the burner was releasing gas into the house, and he'd been breathing it up. I could smell it strongly everywhere so, cold as it was today, I threw open the doors and windows and let the house exhale the danger. I felt horrible. Rob felt ill the rest of the day, and I can understand why. It made me sick just to be in the house for only a few unventilated minutes. I'm glad he discovered the problem and the outcome wasn't worse. I don't even want to think about What if . . . ?
I was reminded of something. A close friend of mine had an awful dream a couple years ago where she saw Rob and me asleep in our bed, asphyxiated from a gas leak. It was so real, she said. I woke up and cried all night, begging God to spare you. I told him I couldn't handle life without you. I had my house checked after that, and there was a leak, but the gas man fixed it. Looks like we might need some more divine intervention over here at Sundog house, so I don't accidentally kill us both; I hope my friend has renewed her can't-do-without-them contract with God.
Must pay more attention.