I had the presence of mind to explain to the dispatcher that if they sent a fire truck, it should come no further than the barn, as the melting and soaking rains have turned our driveway into a gravel-coated vehicle-eating mud pit.
Coming on the heels of the previous night where Pam got dragged in to work at 0-dark-30 for what turned out to largely be a false alarm, and we are both feeling like bottle, pickled death.