So there I was, waking up, when all of a sudden my dad said there was a fire in the house. We looked for it. Yes, there was a fire.
Turns out that during the night the furnace had dried up and overheated. A can of Febreze exploded or the nozzle melted or something, because it smelled a lot like Febreze down there and the Febreze was missing. Also, dry chemical fire extinguishers are terrible for breathing.
The whole damn thing could have exploded as soon as we fed water into it. Not only that, who knows about carbon monoxide or other nasty stuff in the smoke - there was smoldering plastic on top of the heater. We're really lucky it's December, too, or else there probably would have been too much pressure inside. There are burn marks on the actual metal where we took off the side panel.
I have to say, when you're lucky to be alive it makes you realize a lot of stuff about life and what's really important.
I love being alive so much. So should all of you. OK, so I loved being alive before I almost died, but you really gain a deeper appreciation of your own existence when you almost don't have it anymore.
(I believe I have nearly died several times before, all involving water in some shape or form, which is ironic because I am in fact Red Cross certified.)