I woke up wondering why I was smelling smoke. And wondering. I finally decided there was a reason and it wasn’t because someone was smoking outside my house. (Which is sometimes the reason.) So I got up and opened the bedroom door and the living room was filled with smoke.
I don’t know why the smoke decided to come into the house instead of up the chimney. Did R close the flue? But the living room was filled with smoke. I woke R up, throwing him a robe as I did so.
He didn’t move quickly nor was he terribly coherent.
I went to the front door to open it and he asked me what I was doing. I said I was opening it to let the smoke out.
Smoke damage ruined more of my mother’s things in the Jersey house (where they lived before it caught fire) than the fire itself. I also pulled a fan out to push it out the front door.
The living room is now fairly clear, but the kitchen still has smoke.
A bit more excitement that I was looking for this evening.