Buildings in Flame

Waking to a fire alarm is not my preferred mode of waking up; not by a long shot. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending how you look at it, I have already become inured to being woken by fire alarms. Faithful readers may remember that I had it happen twice in the space of a week at 2 in the morning. This rude awakening came around 6:20 this morning, so I wasn't rousted from a deep slumber. But still. Annoying.

So I lay there, wondering if perhaps I should get up and see if I was in danger of imminent immolation. Should I? Probably. Is it a false alarm? Probably. Do I care right now? Hmmmm. After a while I stumbled over to the door to see if I could smell smoke or see people fleeing in panic. I saw neither. I returned to bed and listened to the sirens getting closer and the incessant cry of the fire alarm. Once the firemen arrived, I waited for the inevitable shut off, which came in short order. I relaxed and rolled over for another hour of sleep.

Then the fire alarm went off again. This, perhaps, was it; the calamity. I decided a swift move to the exits would be wise. I had already gotten dressed on the first alarm, so I had to make that fun decision of which possessions would I rescue from a burning building. I had never really even played this game in a hypothetical fashion, so to be contemplating the reality of incineration for my possessions, I had to make a choice. Here's what made the cut:

• My passport, cuz I'm going to Cabo whether my apartment burns or not.
• My car registration, which makes no sense, because I have a copy in my car, but it was next to the passport.
• My laptop; a natural choice in my mind. It's portable for a reason, folks.
• My CD and DVD backups of things on my laptop and photos from days gone by
• My cell phone, keys, and wallet.

I wonder what my choices say about me. I would say that I'm not very sentimental, but the primary concern with those data discs was all the photos I've taken. For some reason I couldn't bear the thought of losing those, but my Dunnies and handmade books didn't make the cut. What of yours would make it out through the flames with you? Anyway, I tossed those things into my backpack and headed out into the hall.

That's when I saw the firemen standing rather unconcernedly around. They were examining a malfunctioning fire alarm box on my floor. I asked whether I should get out or if it was the system. "It's the system," one said. "It's broke." No kidding. This whole flipping building is broken. After a month, they finally fixed the lock on the front door today. Urge to move out rising daily...