I lived in the second-story apartment of an old brick house in Ohio during my first teaching job. There I would occasionally enjoy a hamburger prepared on a cheap rickety grill I owned.
One day after another turn at the grill, I noticed that the well-used charcoal briquettes had been reduced to ashes. So I spread them and let them cool overnight, then the next day I poured them into the metal garbage can I had placed on the street. It wasn't long before I noticed smoke outside my apartment window. I looked down to the street and saw my trash can engulfed in flames.
