Call the Fire Department!!!!!!!

We almost died. Yes We Did!.....I don't care what Casey says, I know we almost died. Which oddly enough makes for an awesome blog post. 
A few mornings ago I was washing laundry/dishes and such...as I walked into the kitchen, I smelled smoke..electrical smoke. I rush into the pantry area to turn off the washer and dryer (I immediately assumed that the dryer vent had become so clogged that the dryer finally retaliated.) Nope. Didn't appear to be the culprit. 
The smell is getting stronger so I do what is normal for me. I push canned goods out of the way with a sweep of my arm and start banging on the pantry wall (which is connected to our bedroom wall) and scream at Casey to come to the kitchen. 
By the time he has shuffled into the kitchen I have opened the basement door...to find that it is filled with smoke! So, I scream at him "The basement is on fire!" (He is 2 feet in front of me) To which Casey turns around and starts shuffling in the other direction...apparently one needs shoes to go into the basement area. As he is rummaging through his closet in the hallway, he is asking stupid questions like "Is there water in the basement?" What the crap?!  I answer sarcastically (to which he ignores, because he knows how I am when I'm scared) Then I start getting mad at him for taking so long...he has shoes on and appears to be selecting the perfect "our house is on fire t-shirt".  I yell something which makes him decide to go shirtless...but inquires about a flashlight.
I am now looking at him in disbelief....we are known for having a plethora of flashlights...none of which have working batteries. He knows this. Yet, it never stops him asking for one. 
Let the great flashlight hunt begin! I run to the living room, because in the recess of my mind, I remember seeing a little gray one sitting beside my baby picture. Aha! It is there! Oho...It is dead. I keep clicking to make sure...yep..still dead. Miracle of miracles, Casey hollers that he has found one that works...(I'm still holding the little gray one, and I'm pretty sure I put it right back where I found it...where it will sit until I need flashlight, to which I will grab it and click furiously...it's a vicious cycle)
Casey heads bravely down the basement stairs....I randomly shriek "Call the fire department!" 
He ignores me.
I decide it is time to evacuate. CJ isn't home, so I run to the girls' bedrooms...I bust through Sammi's door and tell her to get her stuff together because the basement is on fire. 
Sammi's immediate reaction?? She turns to me and screams, "Why?!!" 
I scream, "I don't know why Sam, it's just on fire!"
She screams,"What am I suppose to do with my cat?!"
I scream, "Take her with you!!" (I want to scream, Idiot, at the end of that sentence, but realized she was talking out of panic)
In the midst of this screaming match, Maggie slings her door open, turns pasty white and yells, "I'm scared!"
I instantly get angry. Yes, I know being scared is a normal reaction to a house fire...but Maggie yells this at least once a week. Every week. It's kind of losing it's flavor.  I tell her it's fine and just grab some stuff...
Now in the midst of all this I am occasionally sprinting to the kitchen to yell "Call 911" or "Call the Fire Department" into the smoke filled basement.
Casey never once responds.
He did take enough time to let me know that the water heater busted and the cords are melted together...he is going to turn the breaker off..
I'm still thinking that there are flames climbing the walls...and instruct him once again to call the fire department.
The electric goes off and the house goes deadly quiet.
Casey comes clomping up the steps and informs us that all is well. He has killed the water heater and must begin the search for a new one.
Sammi, Maggie and I all plop on the couch. We are exhausted. The past 10 minutes have been harrowing...we must start immediate therapy, which means we tell each other what we did during those scary moments.
Apparently, Sammi spent a good deal of the 10 minutes trying to shove her cat Amil into a blue duffel bag. Amil was not appreciative of this attempt to save her life. It is a lot harder to get a cat into a duffel bag than one would assume. I'm not sure what else she tried to save because we were hysterically laughing at this point.
Maggie had ran into the pantry and retrieved her teddy from the dryer, which she was still clutching tightly to her chest. She had also shoved a great many things into her purse...it was bulging. She confessed that she had thoughts about going back for her make-up bag. 
I had nothing. I had donned the first available jacket that I came across, but other than that, I was  empty handed. I realized that I hadn't even thought about grabbing pictures, or the hat box under my bed (filled with memories) I had just ran through the house screaming at people and clicking a dead flashlight. I was embarrassed to admit that one of the first things I thought was "NO, we just got  Dish TV working in everyone's rooms!" 
We may need to go over our "fire plan" again.  Somehow I always pictured  a fire happening in the middle of the night, which means we all climb out of our windows and meet at mom and dad's.
We never discussed what to do if we were wide awake...which apparently for this family is more dangerous than being dead asleep.

As we go our separate ways (into a now cold and quiet house) Sammi enters her bedroom and yells in frustration. I ask her what's wrong and she tells me that Amil is now sitting quite content inside the blue duffel bag that she fought so valiantly to avoid only moments before....*sigh* 


***I drew a horrible picture of Sammi trying to stuff Amil into the duffel bag...surprisingly, none of us took time to take an actual picture during the emergency.****