Smells Suspicious

[UPDATE 1-26-2009: well, we still don't know what it was. But it went away. I'm still a tad nervous, not knowing and all. But it went away. Huh. Go figure.]

Last night, I walk in the door from Seminary, and there is this abnormal, not-there-when-I-left, very strong smell in the house. It smelled like over-heated batteries or electrical wiring or something.

That is a bad smell. Not just bad-unpleasant-on-my-delicate-and-highly-refined-nostrils-bad, but bad-the-house-could-burn-down-while-we're-sleeping-bad.

"WHAT is that SMELL?!" I demand. My brain goes a million worst-case-scenario places all at once. Normally, Mark is home and playing Daddy while I'm gone to Seminary. But last night, he was called away on Branch Presidency business, so I took Little George with me, and Hyrum watched the girls. So, knowing that Mark hadn't been there (he had arrived home just 20 minutes before me) made me really worried, walking in the back door and be greeted by that smell.

I walk into the next room to find Mark and all my children (except George, of course, because he was with me) peacefully watching Looney Toons on youtube. Hasn't anyone noticed the strong and ominous odor? "Mark, what IS that?"

He doesn't know. He says he's looked, but can't find anything that is obviously emitting nasty stench. I'm unsatisfied with his answer. I walk around, sniffing as I go (attractive mental imagery, yes?). It's not upstairs, it's not in the basement. Just here on the main floor. But not particularly stronger in any one room. It smells the same in the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, my bedroom. I am quelling panic. This is an old house. 102 years, to be exact. Of course, the wiring isn't that old, but it certainly wasn't installed within the decade.

I suffer through two more episodes of Daffy Duck and Yosemite Sam before I insist that we shut down the computer. Hyrum says he scorched dinner a bit (yes, he will cook for his sisters when I'm gone, but only if I tell him he has to...and don't get too excited: it was hot dogs), and that was about when he started noticing the aroma. But it doesn't smell like burnt food, it smells like fried wires. And it's really strong.

We go through the bed-time routine, and after everyone is tucked in (except Yvette, who had a late nap, and woke up around 7 p.m., and is all chipper and well-rested), Mark starts making a more thorough search. He ranges all over, unplugging things and sniffing outlets, light fixtures, whatever. He finds nothing. We can't get a bead on it to save our lives. Pun intended.

So, we just go to bed. I mean, we left everything unplugged that we could - yes, the stove, the microwave, the toaster; no the fridge, the freezer. We pray fervently that we will live to wake up the next morning, and not to our house going up in flames. And we go to sleep.

This morning. No flames. No smoke. No scorch marks on the wall. But still that smell. Not as strong, but still present and accounted for. I have to tell you, I'm freaking out. Because we're going away for a day or two in the near future, and I really don't want to. Because my house might burn down while I'm gone.

Uhm. I'm going to go sniff outlets again.