It's Hot

I am not an electrician, and I do not pretend to be one; but my wife tells me that she smells smoke, I listen. Last night, after a very long day, at 1am, we were ready to crawl into bed and call it a night.
Lydia came up stairs from taking Sedgwick for his late night trip to the outside and tells me that she smells smoke in the bedroom.

Recall a late October night in my college days when I arrived home from Lydia's apartment to find a smokey mess in the kitchen. My house-mates and I preceded to the basement to find some flames shooting up a bathroom wall that could be seen from the ceiling boards. We called 911 and were homeless for a few months as the contractors repaired the damage.

Back to yesterday:

I told her that I did not smell it but a sense of fear and paranoia fills me at the thought of another house fire. I began to sniff around and to my surprise a lightswitch had an added feature. It seems that when you turned this switch on now, a really noncomforting crackling sound would precede from the wall as well as that horrid electrical fire smell that sends terror down my spine.

I took off the plate and looked for flames, which there were none. I then noticed that Owen had decided to join me in the hallway. (For the record here is Owen's complete lexicon- night-night, Anna, and dog.) Owen decided that he would add 'hot' to the lexicon as he pointed up to the lightswitch. Good Owen! Hot.

The long and 'short' is that I replaced the switch and all works fine again. I do need some training on the two-switch to one light though. It seems that you cannot control the switch from either place, only one at a time. I am sure that Gerald, my new electrician will give me some free advice!

Hot!