My Mom called us while we were in Africa, telling us that her and Dad had gone up to the house on a whim to see how things were progressing. When they opened the door the house was full of smoke, and orange embers were glowing in the kitchen ceiling. The insulation crew had knocked over a halogen light (that was left on), and it was moments? minutes? seconds? (who knows) away from full-on ignition. Very thankful they happened to drive up that evening. Maybe we’d have just lived in South Africa.