Hometown memory

Just saw an ad on TV for some kind of heating pad that is weighted and safe to last all night long.
This, of course, reminded me of something from when I was maybe 10 or so.

My grandmother had a friend who lived on the outskirts of my hometown, right on the edge, on a dead end street. It was paved, but lonely. Okay, for the longest time, this woman, Dodka I will try to phoneticize her name, lived in a shack with no toilet or running water, though I do believe electricity was forced upon her later in time.

What made me think of this poor old lady who did not speak English in my vicinity, was the horrible way she died.

It was a fierce winter. Snow was piled high in drifts. I doubt anybody even knew someone lived in this shack, not even the town. 
The old lady, in an effort to be warm, plugged in three heating pads and slept her last sleep.

When she was found, many days later, she was burned to a crisp, inside and out.

My grandmother found out about her passing weeks later. I do not know whether she would have done anything to alleviate the woman's situation while she still breathed because most people didn't give a rat's ass about Dodka. She had no family.

The killer thing is, when the town was tearing down the shack, a great deal of money was found in the walls and that part of the dirt floor that had boards over it.

Is there a lesson in this? 
Either: Spend it while you have it  or
be careful using heating pads.