I wish I had a picture

Two days ago, a SATURDAY to be exact, FedEx delivered this rather shabby box of mystery to our house (and I emphasize Saturday because I thought only requested deliveries made the cut for the weekend; this was most definitely not a request):

Most entertaining to me is that they also left a sticky on the sidelight window telling us that they'd left us a delivery on our front porch. Yes, thank you, Mr. Obvious. Good thing I didn't trip on the box while trying to read the note that told me it was there. 

The spousal unit periodically orders stuff for work and accidentally ships it home so a package that's not instantly identifiable is not immediate cause for concern. Or bomb squads. Things like that.

But this one rang no bells there either. And forget about checking the packing list; my curious husband just ripped right into that box. And found this:

Note the high quality packing material. Oh, and the soot.

This looks to me like the laptop has a bit of a copper stogie thing going on. I was apparently the only one who thought that. 

See, two and half years + one day earlier, that particular object (on the last day of its lease, no less) burst into flames, setting off the smoke alarm, and waking us up at 3:45AM. Unprepared for incendiary drama, even by the incessant beeping, we dithered, expecting that the smoke alarm was just doing it's usual I-need-new-batteries thing which for whatever reason only ever happened IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FREAKING NIGHT. 

My darling husband got up to replace the battery and discovered, much to our surprise, an actual fire. Panic ensued for about 1.5 seconds. Okay, I panicked. He rather calmly, in an act unsanctioned by fire departments everywhere, approached the flames, unplugged the device, threw it in the sink and turned on the water. Problem solved, sortof.* (Disclaimer: I in no way condone his behavior. If you have a fire in your very own house, I recommend you call a professional. A professional FIRE FIGHTER. And then, take their advice and don't keep sneaking back in to peak at the fire. I know someone who did that, it's just not wise.)

It looked sortof like this except it was sitting on the kitchen counter.  I actually only know that by report. By the time I came downstairs, the faucet had done its job.

We filed a claim with our homeowner's insurance and they promised to do battle to get us our deductible back (which they make you pay and then try to get the party at fault to reimburse). They filed suit. They sent updates. We got letters from attorneys making it clear they were either morbidly stupid or didn't care at all - misspelling our last name is forgivable when you are consistent in your misspelling; inconsistent incorrectness is just evidence that you're a slack*ss. They were also rude.

Recently we got the final notice that the insurance company had finally given up. No huge surprise, we weren't holding out hope of getting our deductible back anyway.

But we sure as hell didn't expect to get the cause of the fire back. And I would almost give up my deductible again to get a picture of my darling husband's face when he realized what he was looking at in that box.

W.T.F. doesn't even come close.

*I say "sortof" since putting out a fire has the direct and exceedingly problematic impact of creating enormous amounts of smoke. The smoke was a far bigger deal than the actual fire damage which was limited to the laptop, a Formica countertop, and the hardwood floor where burning bits had fallen. I will now also publicly apologize to the poor dumpster divers who took my ruined Christmas trees that were soot- and smoke-damaged but then packed back in their boxes and left on the curb on trash day. They disappeared before the trash was picked up and it was only then that I realized that I didn't write on the boxes that they were damaged beyond all reasonable use. I can only hope that the horrible smell that came out of the boxes with the trees was off-putting enough. My bad.