So, when I was getting ready to come here for the year, I bought a lot of stuff off of a couple of students from my program who were here the year before me–bedding, extension cords, lamps, and other misc. junk that you don’t want to lug from the States. I also bought an electric blanket–“best thing for those cold Jerusalem nights,” I was told, and up ’till now that has been true.
Well, this morning I woke up coughing. At first I thought this was because I’ve been trying not to get a cold, but then after a groggy minute I realized that I was coughing because there was smoke in my room. And not just that, but that my bed was burning, That’s right. Burning. Like, on fire.
It seems that my electric blanket had somehow lit on fire in the middle of the night and managed to sear a hole the size of a large dinner plate in my matress and a much larger hole in my comforter. The electric blanket itself was all smoking and burnt-up. This is some scary stuff: fires are not good. Electricity and electric wires mixed with fire are really not good. Fires, on your side of the bed, millimeters from where you’re sleeping in the bed where you’re sleeping at that moment–overwhelmingly not good.
I’m exceedingly lucky. I could have been really, really hurt, and I could have died. As it is, I was unharmed while sleeping (this all the more curious because, as regular readers of this blog know, I’m a very light sleeper) and only scalded the crap out of a couple of fingers as I was attempting to figure out how to put the fire out.
The room smells like burnt stuff and there are lots of chunks of black charred stuff all over the place. The mattress is still sopping wet from the fact that I poured water all over to put out the fire.
I’m a little freaked. Not full-on freaked; for some reason, all these bizarre things have been happening to me (my wallet being stolen was only one) lately, but my spirits and my mood are generally pretty good. I might be more freaked out later–that woudn’t be surprising. Right now it just seems like it’s messing up my day (I’m going to flip the matress but have to go buy new bedding, eg) and I have these blistered, painful fingers now. But in the scheme of things, I could be so much worse, and I’m dang dang lucky that I’m not. I just want all the weirdness to cease. I’ll put up with this, but no more surprises around the corner! Dangit!
Ow. No more typing. Sorry to everyone to whom I owe email.
Current soundtrack: Midnight Oil, of course.