Saturday, January 29, 2005


Every now and then I am lulled into thinking my life is perfectly normal. I mean, really. I wake up, go to work, go to the gym, and occasionally hang out with friends. The picture of regular living, right?

Maybe soap opera storylines are closer to nonfiction than fiction?

Last night I had a friend's birthday party to attend in the evening. It was set to start after 9:00 pm, so I had some time to kill after work. I came home, rested, went to the gym, then back home to clean up. I had taken a long leisurely shower, and had just finished doing my hair and makeup when I started to hear a commotion.

This commotion consisted of heavy footsteps treading in my hall, and some noise outside on the street.

"Huh” I thought.

Then across my airshaft the windows were being broken. Not a floor down or in the back of the building, but ten feet from my bedroom window.

"Err,” I utter.

I want to look out of my bedroom window, but my uncle the retired nyc cop told me long ago if you hear trouble go the other way. That way you do not get injured as an innocent bystander. I guess one of my second cousins got kicked by a police horse once because he did not follow this advice.

But I digress.

I'm a little nervous, and only in my underwear. I look out my front window, and there is a fire ladder across the view.

That would be a good hint it is time to get dressed. No alarms, no one coming to my door saying it would be good to get out of the apt. Just a fire ladder outside of the window of a half naked girl.

I get dressed very hurriedly and get my ass outside. I live on the fifth floor of a brownstone that is flanked on both sides by two more brownstones. The apartment directly next to mine in the next building is on fire. Two little brick walls are all that separate me from losing all of my worldly goods.

Thanks to our fabulous NYC fire dept, the fire was out within 15 minutes, and I ran back upstairs to check out my place. In my absence the firemen had to go into my apartment and poke a hole about one foot in diameter in my ceiling to make sure the fire had not spread to my building via the roof. They were exceptionally apologetic and nice about the mess. Which was nice, but I'm actually really thankful that they check that kind of thing. I like having a place to sleep. I think being homeless could really suck.

The firemen left, I looked around, and I got my booty to the party. Girlfriend really needed a drink to still her nerves.

And today I am getting renter's insurance. Oh yeah.

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