As a bit of background, my father is -- within his job -- one of the most organized people I know. He was a federal agent/investigator for much of my childhood (and thus not home much), and was one of the top ones on the West Coast, attaining a senior rank. When he decided he wanted to spend more time with his family, he quit and became a lawyer. He's now been in that job for over a decade, as a county prosecutor, and is quite good at that, too. He works in Snohomish County, the county north of King County (where Seattle is), so he has about an hour commute each way on the freeway.
My mother and I are of the impression that dad uses up all his organization on his work, however, because he's the most scatterbrained person imaginable at home. He'll wash dishes and then go to get something from the fridge, and put away the clean plates in the fridge for some unfathomable reason. He'll do all sorts of bizarre stuff like that.
So, as I said, early this morning I get a call from my father.
ME: "Mwugh... hello?"
DAD: "Hi. Uhm. Rachel..."
ME: "Urmph." *rub eyes, sit up* "What's up, dad?"
DAD: "Well, I kinda left the stove on at home. Could you go turn it off?"
ME: "...Skuld's in the shop, dad."
DAD: "Oh, right. Er... do you think Brent could give you a ride over?"
ME: "...I don't know if he's even home, or if he's at work, or what."
DAD: "I'll call back in a couple minutes. Go see, please? I know this is a hassle, but...it'd really be a pain if I had to leave work and drive home to turn it off."
So Brent gets up, and we drive over to the house. Turn off the stove (it's an electric and he'd left it at the lowest setting, and the pot of water isn't even lukewarm). Brent declared the entire incident 'rather anticlimactic.' Dad agreed when I called to check in, but also said he thought he 'might be in a little bit of trouble' if he had misremembered where the burner was set to, and my mother got home to find the house had burned down.