Sooo I have some bad news to share but VN has over the years become my extended family -- y'all are my dysfunctional brethren and sisteren. If anyone doesn't want or need to hear bad news go ahead and skip this post (it won't hurt my feelings).
I haven't really wanted to talk about it but the trauma people at Red Cross said that it was good for me to tell the story... Here goes... Friday evening I decided to cook (something I've done a million times over with no issue) but this time when I lit the burners the gas exploded. It knocked me out of the room and I think it knocked me out for at least a few seconds but when I came to my senses I was on my back and my pants were quite literally on fire. I stripped them off and looked up and noticed that about half the ceiling had been blown off and was now in the floor. What I didn't notice immediately was that a small fire had broken out further behind me and farther behind the initial blast. Once I did notice it we set about a bucket brigade, tried to beat it out, and even dumped cat litter on it but it just got bigger and bigger.
I know they say you can't imagine how quickly fire can spread but until you see it happen you just don't get it. In under a minute, it went from something we thought we'd be able to put out to a situation in which we were about to die if we didn't flee and I almost waited too long. I went back one last time after I knew it was time to abandon ship but when I thought I could still make it out safely. I managed to grab the keys, pants and a cell phone and thought about grabbing more but the smoke was starting to get really bad and even though I hesitated over the decision finally decided it was now or never.
By the time I made it out of our bedroom the fire had spread to the front door and was blocking my way out. (Thank god I'd put on a pair of jeans despite not having any shoes). All I could think of at that point was "I'm not going to effing die like this." I knew the door was straight ahead even though it was getting hard to see and flames were all around me so I decided that my best option was to just run as fast as I possibly could because fire takes a bit to catch and if I went fast enough I could minimize the damage.
Someone had to be looking out for me because it worked. I ran straight through those flames without getting a single burn (not even from the aforementioned smoldering pants). I did get a mean cut on my foot from something but otherwise we both came out relatively unscathed (the OH did suffer a few minor burns from trying to beat the fire out/standing too close while I was running water back and forth). The sad news is that I was unable to get my little tom cat out (the guilt there has been killing me but when I came back from what I turned out to be the last trip there was no way I could've gone back in without dying). There was a partially opened window that I'm hoping he escaped out of (cats are good at survival so there's at least a small chance but we haven't been able to go back and check just yet. He and the family heirlooms/photos and mementos are the most painful things to have lost.
BTW, all y'all need to go out right now and get a fire extinguisher for your home. If we'd have had one we might not have lost everything. The fire wasn't a grease fire but for whatever reason it couldn't be put out despite its initial size. An extinguisher would've done that.
P.S. Can someone catch me up on what I've missed the past few days?