Today was my mom's 65th birthday, and she got what most women I know would LOVE for a present - 6 firefighters tromping through her house in full gear, sweaty and dirty and young and bored.
Of course, mom didn't see it that way, she called me in a panic. See, here's what happened: we had particularly nasty thunderstorms all day, and this evening they came especially close and hit especially hard. My house was nearly hit at one point, and apparently, as my mom was doing the crosswords and watching C-SPAN a lightning bolt hit hers, causing a power surge and blowing out her TV. The first person she called was her oldest son, but I was on the phone with a friend and my cell phone had been knocked out by the storm, so I didn't get the call.
So of course she called the only people more able to help her in a crisis: she dialed 911.
First they sent out a policeman to assess the situation. He looked around the house (I was on the phone with her by this point), presumably using his Maglite to shine the way, making sure that it wasn't actually ON FIRE (to her credit she didn't tell anyone that there was a fire, she just said that her "TV was hit by lightning"). She told him that she thought her TV had been hit by lightning, but her son said it was just a power surge which she didn't completely understand (she never believes me), and he "Mmm Hmmm'd" her. He left, but not before telling her that the fire department would be by to make sure everything was OK.
An hour later, I got a call from her, apparently there were 6 firemen traipsing throughout her house in their boots, tracking dirt and grass everywhere, checking to make sure that the wires in her wall weren't ablaze. To their credit, they even checked her attic for mice. Actually, they checked for flames, but she was afraid they'd find mice. This, after seeing how messy her house is (it's not messy, I assure you). Oh heavens, what would they think?
I have to say that they did an incredibly thorough job, much more so than I did (what I did amounted to assessing the situation remotely via telephone and offhandedly deciding that there was a power surge and I'd have to buy her a new TV for her birthday), so kudos to the local FD.
The kicker? I bought her a DVD player for her birthday, which means I now have to buy her a TV to go along with it.
Edit: Also, if I ever get so old that the equivalent (to men) of sweaty, dirty, young, bored firemen traipsing through my house makes me call my oldest child rather than get naked and pour olive oil all over myself, if that happens - PLEASE SHOOT ME.
