Basically, I was chilling, watching “Syriana” (courtesy of Netflix) because I’ve had it for… six months and still haven’t watched it.
Then I noticed a weird odor…
(No, not my own flatulence)
I thought it may be one of the many electronic gizmos in my home theater rig overheating, since it smelled like roasted electronics with a hint of rubber.
Given how shitty my sense of smell is, it could have smelled like roast duck with mango salsa and I’d have freaked…
So I cut the lights on, looked in my kitchen and noticed a smoky haze in the kitchen.
I then proceeded to run around the kitchen (“like a chicken with its head cut off” as my dear old Mom used to say) looking to see if the oven, the cooktop or anything else might be on.
Nada.
I noticed the smoke was up to the ceiling in there, so I bolted upstairs, and checked all the rooms. Nothing burning, and the odor was not even noticeable up there.
So I dialed 9-1-1, told the operator what was going on, and got a visit from PGFD and Greenbelt Volunteer FD so quickly that I barely had time to move my car out the garage (because I sure as Hell was not going to let my precious car go up in flames… or get water damaged if they needed to put a fire out!) before they showed up en masse.
My boss may appreciate the fact that somewhere in the process of moving the car, I also threw my laptop and all my work-related stuff into the trunk because I love my job. 
So the fire department ran around the place checking for the source of the smoke and discovered that something electronic failed in the (overly complex and, in my opinion, poorly designed) electronic HVAC unit that handles the heat in the house.
It kicked out a lot of smoke, tripped the circuit breaker, but the fans pushed the smoke throughout the house.
Joy. 
That said, I’m glad to be alive, glad that all the “things” I’ve got aren’t lost to fire, damaged, or destroyed. And I’m grateful to the fire department for getting out here so quickly, even though I caught one of the guys playing with an elastic ribbon I used while rehabilitating my ankle (why do I keep it? I don’t know!) to smack his co-worker on the ass.
