Craptastic Tuesday, Part I: The Exxon Dad
Second Tuesday in a row where weird and unpleasant things have happened. Only going with the first part, because the second is really bad (like, make-the-news bad) and is still unfolding; hopefully I'll have more info tomorrow.
So, this morning. It starts off normally. But as I'm making breakfast, I notice an odd smell. What is that? Smells like a chemical. Nothing seems off in the kitchen; I poke my head down the basement door, in case it's plant-related; nothing. Hmm. Weird. But if I can't pinpoint it, I can't do anything more about it.
And then I finished my cereal and the part of the paper I'm reading, and I go into the laundry room to recycle the paper, and holy hell I'm hit by a smell. Oh, dear. And I open the door to the garage, and...WHOOMP. THERE IT IS. I quickly opened the big door to the outside, because whatever I'm smelling is extraordinarily strong. There's something on the ground near where my father parks, and a cardboard box clearly askew and with one side flapped open. Oh, dear.
So, this is what I've determined: My father somehow knocked into the box while backing in or pulling out of his parking space, which is tight to begin with. This tipped over a large (at least gallon-size) container of paint thinner, thus the lovely smell. The paint thinner either wasn't sealed properly (entirely possible, knowing my father) or somehow broke, leaking all over the cardboard box. The box was completely discolored, yet when I touched part of it, it felt dry. Anyway, the liquid probably caused the box to partly disintegrate, leaving the side sticking out toward my father's car to fall off or get knocked off when he hit it. A number of other items in the box were also askew. And, a smallish can of motorcycle oil--I think he later told me it was brake fluid--was then run over and crushed by my father's car. When I got there, the oil can was flattened and had at least two holes in it, at the top and the bottom.
I found this at about 7:50. My dad leaves before 5:30, so this had been like that for at least 2.5 hours. Goody. The paint thinner, or what had spilled onto the concrete, had mostly evaporated; the flap from the box was still wet. There was liquid under the oil can but it was hard to tell if it was oil, if it was paint thinner, if it was both, what have you. I moved some stuff around and called dad, mainly to tell him NOT to park in the garage when he got home. I left the door open as long as I could, so about a half-hour, then prayed the house wouldn't blow up before I got home. (Let's just say thank God I didn't, like, make myself scrambled eggs on the stovetop this morning.) I'd also opened the sliding door in the kitchen and, as a precaution, one of my bedroom windows. It didn't really smell upstairs but I wasn't taking any chances.
I tried to come right home after work, and as soon as I got there I opened the garage door again. While the smell had dissipated earlier, it certainly had come back after a day spent with the door closed. Another reason to be thankful: Temps had been forecast to get into the upper 60s, but ended up about ten degrees cooler. The laundry room was pretty reeky again, but I opened up some more windows and turned on the fan in the kitchen to help clear things out. Kirby about gave me a heart attack, though--I had a few things to check on before I could go upstairs, but I was calling out to her and whistling and she did not answer. I probably threw her off by entering through the garage, not the front door, but still. I called for several minutes and heard nothing. That's really what you want to have happen when there's been a chemical spill in the garage. Finally she answered me, and is fine, but man would I have been upset if I'd found her keeled over in her cage.
Once both my parents were home--and traffic was terrible for my mom; she was an hour and a half late--we found out that dad knew he'd hit the box, but didn't realize he'd knocked anything over, much less run anything over. Also, mom had smelled something but didn't know what it was, and she figured my dad knew about it and since he'd left it alone, it must be okay. ...Really? That is a strong chemical smell that can be toxic, and you honestly thought it was fine? Seriously, why didn't you wake me? She went, I didn't want to hear it from you this morning! So...we could have aired out the garage for two hours, but instead we got to stink up the house. (Talk about not the brightest bulb on the chandelier. I'd have her meet up with the neighbors, but between our fumes and their flames, that would be an explosive friendship.) Dad did scrub away at the floor, and he's been smoking out on the deck and not in the garage, so it seems better, but it's still a concern. I'm just glad it happened today, when I had time to deal with it, instead of tomorrow when I'd have to leave early.
So, this morning. It starts off normally. But as I'm making breakfast, I notice an odd smell. What is that? Smells like a chemical. Nothing seems off in the kitchen; I poke my head down the basement door, in case it's plant-related; nothing. Hmm. Weird. But if I can't pinpoint it, I can't do anything more about it.
And then I finished my cereal and the part of the paper I'm reading, and I go into the laundry room to recycle the paper, and holy hell I'm hit by a smell. Oh, dear. And I open the door to the garage, and...WHOOMP. THERE IT IS. I quickly opened the big door to the outside, because whatever I'm smelling is extraordinarily strong. There's something on the ground near where my father parks, and a cardboard box clearly askew and with one side flapped open. Oh, dear.
So, this is what I've determined: My father somehow knocked into the box while backing in or pulling out of his parking space, which is tight to begin with. This tipped over a large (at least gallon-size) container of paint thinner, thus the lovely smell. The paint thinner either wasn't sealed properly (entirely possible, knowing my father) or somehow broke, leaking all over the cardboard box. The box was completely discolored, yet when I touched part of it, it felt dry. Anyway, the liquid probably caused the box to partly disintegrate, leaving the side sticking out toward my father's car to fall off or get knocked off when he hit it. A number of other items in the box were also askew. And, a smallish can of motorcycle oil--I think he later told me it was brake fluid--was then run over and crushed by my father's car. When I got there, the oil can was flattened and had at least two holes in it, at the top and the bottom.
I found this at about 7:50. My dad leaves before 5:30, so this had been like that for at least 2.5 hours. Goody. The paint thinner, or what had spilled onto the concrete, had mostly evaporated; the flap from the box was still wet. There was liquid under the oil can but it was hard to tell if it was oil, if it was paint thinner, if it was both, what have you. I moved some stuff around and called dad, mainly to tell him NOT to park in the garage when he got home. I left the door open as long as I could, so about a half-hour, then prayed the house wouldn't blow up before I got home. (Let's just say thank God I didn't, like, make myself scrambled eggs on the stovetop this morning.) I'd also opened the sliding door in the kitchen and, as a precaution, one of my bedroom windows. It didn't really smell upstairs but I wasn't taking any chances.
I tried to come right home after work, and as soon as I got there I opened the garage door again. While the smell had dissipated earlier, it certainly had come back after a day spent with the door closed. Another reason to be thankful: Temps had been forecast to get into the upper 60s, but ended up about ten degrees cooler. The laundry room was pretty reeky again, but I opened up some more windows and turned on the fan in the kitchen to help clear things out. Kirby about gave me a heart attack, though--I had a few things to check on before I could go upstairs, but I was calling out to her and whistling and she did not answer. I probably threw her off by entering through the garage, not the front door, but still. I called for several minutes and heard nothing. That's really what you want to have happen when there's been a chemical spill in the garage. Finally she answered me, and is fine, but man would I have been upset if I'd found her keeled over in her cage.
Once both my parents were home--and traffic was terrible for my mom; she was an hour and a half late--we found out that dad knew he'd hit the box, but didn't realize he'd knocked anything over, much less run anything over. Also, mom had smelled something but didn't know what it was, and she figured my dad knew about it and since he'd left it alone, it must be okay. ...Really? That is a strong chemical smell that can be toxic, and you honestly thought it was fine? Seriously, why didn't you wake me? She went, I didn't want to hear it from you this morning! So...we could have aired out the garage for two hours, but instead we got to stink up the house. (Talk about not the brightest bulb on the chandelier. I'd have her meet up with the neighbors, but between our fumes and their flames, that would be an explosive friendship.) Dad did scrub away at the floor, and he's been smoking out on the deck and not in the garage, so it seems better, but it's still a concern. I'm just glad it happened today, when I had time to deal with it, instead of tomorrow when I'd have to leave early.