worry wart

Prior to moving into the woods, Mrs. T and I lived in a typical cookie cutter suburban neighborhood.  The original settlers were offered a limited number of building plans, so when the builders left approximately every third house was a copy of yours. We liked it there, and by the time the trees matured it was a lovely place to live.

Several years ago our old favorite neighbor's house was struck by lightening and burned to the ground. I wrote about the fire here. They have since rebuilt, better than ever.

We've heard little from our neighbors since we moved, rarely do we drive the streets we knew so well, until  last week.  A family member phoned late one night to tell that our old house was on fire and the story led the local nightly news.

 Noticing Mrs. T didn't sleep well the night we heard the news, in the morning I lightly broached why. Never let it be said my bride isn't all girl. " I've been worrying all night. What if the fire was due to something we did to the house?" and assorted nonsense, she railed, once again wondering how I could be so oblivious.

Convinced we were about to be sued my bride insisted, that before breakfast, we assess our liability. It wasn't our home, but one across the street.  It was the house next door to the one that burned in 2009. What are the odds?

Toad