Now that they're in school things are quiet. Really quiet. And I've found the sound of silence to be difficult to dance to.

Which explains my tendency to drum up excitement from time to time. Like I did last Wednesday.

It all started when I was throwing the last load of laundry into the dryer and my smoke detector went berserk. Though it only went off for a few seconds that was enough to put my undies in a bunch.

Despite my inability to locate the fire, I was sure it was there, hiding in a wall or behind a door. (Hey, I saw "Backdraft"!) So, when it started screeching a second time I panicked, dialed 9-1-1, scooped up my sleeping dog and phoned a friend.

My friend is conveniently situated just across the street, so I figured I could watch my house burn to the ground from her kitchen window. She's home all day, too, in an equally quiet house. Which is probably why her response to my hysteria was simply, "Oh great! Come on over. I'll brew some coffee."

On my way across the street with my confused pooch tucked beneath my arm, I felt my hair turning to ice which reminded me that I had just taken a shower and thrown on sweats when I became distracted by laundry. And in that moment, with all my worldly possessions about to go up in smoke, I made a mental note to start doing my hair and make-up each morning even though I rarely see anyone. You never know when a fire might force you from your home.

I set my shaking dog down on my friend's kitchen floor so he could get acquainted with her dog and cat. He just peed. Four times.

My friend laughed and waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, don't worry about it. I need to clean the floors anyway and this provides the perfect incentive. I should be thanking you."

I made another mental note to have coffee with my friend sometime when I wasn't in such a hurry.

As she got out the ammonia I called 9-1-1 again just to make sure someone was coming.

"No, I didn't actually smell smoke, but there is definitely something smoky billowing out of the basement. Hurry!" I said.

The calm lady assured me they were on their way.

By the time I made it back across the slippery street two enormous fire engines had pulled up and three firemen were in my basement. I stood alone on the sidewalk for what seemed an eternity shivering, sniffing the air and praying that our devastating fire wouldn't wipe out the neighborhood.

Just then a fourth fireman approached me. "This your home, ma'am?"

"Yes it is," I whimpered.

"Why are you standing out here in the cold?" he asked.

Now, I usually maintain that there are no dumb questions. "Because my house is on fire!" I quipped.

Just then fireman number three poked his head out the front door to report finding nothing. No fire, no smoke and no alarm.

So, against my better judgment, I followed them downstairs to show them around. I was getting the same look people give their aging aunt who insists the nurse is out to steal her teeth. But my sanity was saved by the bell when the alarm went off again and all four firemen jumped. Ah, ha!

In the end there was no fire. The detector was found faulty. The smoke billowing from the foundation of my house was just my dryer venting. And the smell of smoke turned out to be someone else's wood-burning stove which, the firemen assured me, are quite common this time of year.

Meanwhile, my dog helped my neighbor clean the floor and I entertained the fire department. And, for the record, I'm sorry. Next time things get quiet I'll just do my hair, put on some coffee and phone a friend.

Kristen Friesen is a wife and mother of three girls and lives in Grand Island. She grew up in a houses on Cottonwood Drive in Lincoln, where she learned much of what she passes on in this column. Contact her at hervoice@theindependent.com.