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We had dinner while watching the second debate. After dinner we washed up the dishes and were standing at the bottom of the stairs dicussing how Word can be used to create a four-column table when....

B startled and said, "My car's on fire!" She wasn't just talking about an electrical smolder, but roaring flames leaping out of the partially open passenger side window. B ran outside and hit the back window with the garden hose on full blast; the window exploded from the cold water and flames shot up to lick the bottom branches of the tree looming overhead.

Quite a righteous sight in the dark of the night, out of control fire so vividly set against the black sky and trees.

I called 911 and the fire department came and pulled everything out of the car and hosed it all down. Now I know what it means to be "hosed"--talk about a stinkin' mess!

I'm so glad we were standing on the stairs and saw it; if we had gone out into the back yard it might have become well established and up into the tree, threatening the house, before either of us noticed.

B had just finished a job today of staining and oiling a parquet floor. The rags were in the car in 97 degree temps and spontaneously combusted. I always thought spontaneous combustion was an old wives' tale.

I thought wrong.

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