I wake up in the hallway, on my feet. My son's face pressed to my chest.
Down the hall, an odd clicking. Like a taser discharging. I walk into the kitchen. Sounds like popcorn in the microwave. But there is something flashing blue and white under the stove burners. A stobe light behind the clicking of the taser. And while my brain is trying to figure out what poltergeist has infected my appliances, a spike of pure orange flame shoots up from the stove. The clicking and flashing stops, but the fire remains. Without thinking, I stick my face over the stove and try to blow out the flame. Thankfully, nothing explodes all over me.
Eventually, we discovered that the lightning had come in through the front wall, took out our TV and the kids' Wii, then proceeded to run along the wires to slag the garage door, and kept down through to the kitchen, where it lept out of the wall and hit the stove, destroying the igniter and setting the plastic on fire.
Not a good start to the day. Maybe four grand worth of damage. But nobody was hurt. I can replace "stuff," but some wounds don't heal.
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