New Recipe Prompts Purchase of Carbon Monoxide Detector

I decided to try a new recipe Sunday -- chicken with yogurt sauce -- from an Indian cookbook I got recently. It turned out quite nice, actually, and I had a lovely feast of that and some basmati rice.

As I was cleaning up the kitchen, I kept smelling an ever-so-faint hint of natural gas when I passed the (electric) stove.

Hmmm. The stove is approximately right over the gas water heater in the basement. Was it leaking and coming up from the basement? There was no odor at all in the basement. Still, it was enough to make me worry.

A bit of background: Last year I had two minor gas leaks in my basement, so I'm probably more sensitive than the average person to suspicious odors.

Just to be on the safe side, I immediately went out in the cold and bought a carbon monoxide detector. I plugged it in, and nothing. No siren.

Well, it was a relief. I went to sleep without worries, and I didn't think of the possible gas leak until a couple of days later when I got the leftovers out of the fridge.

Magically, the odor of natural gas returned.

Perhaps it was the garam masala, or the ground coriander, or the combination of everything thrown in together -- who knows -- but sure enough, it was my chicken with yogurt sauce leftovers.

Yes, I bought a carbon monoxide detector because of my own cooking!

But you know, after the horrible incident this week in Ghent, I don't mind overreacting over the possible presence of a flammable gas. How awful. It's accidents like that that make me want to hide from the world.

Everything But Hail

I had a grand tour of precipitation today, and was it ever an adventure. I'm thankful to have made it back to my little shack in one piece.

A drive from the homeland to the current place of residence usually takes about 2 hours. Today it took about 4. Now, I am a very cautious driver in the snow, so you probably could have made it in about 3 1/2 or so.

I could have delayed my drive till tomorrow morning, and I contemplated that briefly, but the weather forecast didn't sound promising -- more snow, freezing rain, etc.

Route 50 was by far the worst. It always is. The most awful part is when you're driving along at a comfortable pace in the one sort-of plowed lane and you reach the top of a hill, cross a county line, and suddenly you're on something resembling a Lake Placid bobsled track -- nary a bare spot to be seen, just packed snow and ice. Gosh, that's fun!

Joe, then George

West Virginians have an interesting TV line-up tonight. First, the State of the State address at 7, and then the president speaks at 9.

Not exactly must-see TV, but I usually watch this kind of thing out of a weird sense of duty.

Tonight, however, Joe and George may be ignored in my house. You see, I have more pressing issues: I must replace the flapper in the toilet. I also missed "House" last night because of this ongoing toilet issue. In fact, I think I made the toilet issue WORSE while trying to fix it.

Oh well. That's how my do-it-yourself projects usually work. Two steps backward, one forward, three back, and then give up and call the professional to fix the accumulated problems.