My superman
11 p.m. Monday, birthday surprise.
Tommy’s my hero.
We were sitting in the living room and Tommy was on the couch and saw flames through the kitchen window.
It was in the dumpster behind the restaurant near our house.
He yelled for me to get off the Internet and I didn't do that fast enough but grabbed the cell phone and called 9-1-1.
We have fire station No. 2 about three blocks away. By the time I had found my lavender garden clogs and grabbed the cell phone, before I could even reach the dispatcher, Tommy had connected our 100-foot yellow garden hose in the back of the house and I watched as he vaulted over the six-foot wooden fence like some sort of Nigerian monkey.
He had the dumpster fuming with noxious gasses and steam and I calmly told the dispatcher that my boyfriend would likely have the fire out soon, but it would probably be good to have the fire guys come by and make sure the fire was out.
I was so proud and, ummm, impressed by him right then. What a birthday present. I get to see my action hero in action, and have firemen at my house!
There were two 50-gallon drums of grease next to the dumpster and the fire guys were impressed my action hero had known to douse them off.
I was peering over the fence into the restaurant parking lot and asked the 19-year-old firefighter if he would be willing to let Rob use the big hose. They said no, with a big smile.