There was a chemical spill in our basement last night.
Ben, suited up with one of those head-mounted LED lamps that cavers and nocturnal bicyclists use, had gone down to do some laundry. I heard him shout, "What the hell is this?"
Our basement is a catacomb of relics spanning at least three decades, maybe more. What I'd identified as the gates of hell turned out to be an old cistern (complete with piping from the rooftop raingutters) turned mead cellar. Large glass carboys full of amber fluids sit precariously on heaps and shelves. Another shelf bears reels of moviefilm, another stacks of vinyl records. The hallway is lined with casks. Corners are unreachable, under piles of old furniture, discarded boilers, a motorcycle engine... This basement dates from the War Between The States.
There'd been a debris flow of sorts, the mountain of mothballed treasures had shifted, and a bottle of Co(NO3)2•6H2O had shattered on the floor. The red liquid cascaded down the stairs in what looked like pools of Cabernet.
We poked at it.
"Strong Oxidizer"
Ben asked, "What's an oxidizer?" I said, after a pause, "like Bleach?" It was late and Chemistry was painfully slow in coming.
"Keep away from fuels. Danger of explosion!"
That seemed a little over-stated for something as inoccuous-sounding as Cobalt Nitrate. Still, I surveyed for fuels, remembering the huge pile of paint cans in the other basement. All I found was a torn container of some chlorine-bearing powder. At least two oxidizers spilled together.
I'd pieced together that our landlord used to run a "Trace Organic Chemical Analysis" lab out of this little house. Deep in this particular pile there is a "Spectrophotometer," a "Gas Chromatograph," some electronic pH meters. There are several pounds of Lanthanum Oxide, manufacturered by Kodak, with labels saying something like "For flame enhancement in spectroscopy," and also saying "Expires 1982." There's a price tag that says "$14.00" and "RIT Bookstore." Do college bookstores anywhere still stock 500 mL bottles of chemical reagents?
The chlorine is some keg-cleaning compound. Hops vines climb up the exterior of the house.