Yesterday, as I was working at my computer, I noticed that a big red pickup truck bearing the logo of the Maynard fire department was pulling up to the house. I came downstairs in time to greet the (a?) Maynard fire captain, here to do an inspection. At first I thought he wanted to see the tail-end of our huge construction project to ensure that we complied with all requirements, which have changed since the house was originally built.
But no, this was about something having to do with propane. Ah. So I mentioned that we now had a propane tank and a gas fireplace. Could he see both? Certainly, and that's exactly what he meant. We trotted out to see the propane tank first. "Hmm," he said, as if to mean "golly gee, that's a propane tank, yup." He asked if it was full and I showed him the guage pointing nearly to the "F" mark. Inside again, we went upstairs to see the little gas fireplace. I turned it on and showed him the shutoff valve. "Hmm," he said again, this time with more meaning, and asked where we bought it.
Downstairs again, he asked to use my dining room table, where he proceeded to fill out a form in duplicate (by hand) granting permission to install the propane tank. At least I now have it in writing (and I do mean writing -- no automation here), a month after the tank was installed.
When he left, he told me to "be good" (he was, after all, a sweet fatherly type) and I replied that it had been a pleasure to meet him, and though I'd be happy to see him again, I hope it's not at the business end of a fire truck.
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