I walked into Bree’s house the other day and laid my coat across the bench next to the door–out of reach of her new puppy Scrappy that loves to eat in no particular order hats, mittens, boots, hems, anything hanging off your person, etc. As I put my wool coat down, the zipper magically connected with a plug that was slightly pulled from the wall and shorted the entire house– literally– and burned two perfect tong marks into my circular zipper pull.
After Bree and I spent many many minutes with the fuse box, including one terrifying moment when the smoke detectors started beeping and I was convinced the house was going to blow, we managed to get the lights back on. The only additional casualties was a small burn mark on the inside of my coat, our blood pressure and a now-black outlet cover.
“Damn,” Bree said, “I wonder if there is something wrong with my electrical circuit?” (I should be clear here– we had no idea what we were talking about.)
“Or Rachel finally got her super powers,” her sister said.
I’m thinking definitely the latter.