I was standing in my kitchen tonight and thought I smelled gas. My mom mentioned that she thought she smelled it earlier in the day (thanks for mentioning it) so I called the gas company. The last time I did that was back in college when we lived in a townhouse in the ghetto we fondly called "Little Mexico". The firetrucks came a blazin' within 5 minutes. This time, the guy told me to leave the house but stay visible and he'd send a technician out. It took almost an hour for them to get there! I wouldn't have been so upset if I didn't have G out there with me. He'd been yawning for the past 3 hours, so I knew he'd want to go to bed soon. Plus he tends to get cranky from teething around 7 or 8, so I was worried...but he actually surprised us and did really well. Our neighbors across the street who we'd never met before invited us over to sit on their porch chairs and then even invited us inside when I mentioned that G smelled stinky. They happened to have a spare diaper for when their grandson comes over.
Everything ended up being ok and I'm thankful for nice neighbors.
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