It all started at 4:14 a.m. when I woke up groaning because it was WAY TOO EARLY to be getting up. But once I realized what time it was, I was excited that I still had an hour of sleep left! A half hour later, I noticed the smell of something hot (electrical-type hot) drifting into my dream. Since I was laying on a beach somewhere, I didn’t figure anything around me was burning and it woke me up FAST!
I jumped out of bed and stubbed my toe on the corner of a Rubbermaid filled with sweaters and then tripped on a basket of laundry. WTF? Doesn’t anyone clean around here? And why is that so close to my bed?!
I blinded myself when I turned on the light and backed into the laundry basket and nearly fell over. God ... I’m gonna kill myself before the fire even gets to me at this point!
Tripping over my shoes, books, and laundry, I made it to the hallway and began looking for the source of the smell ... which was getting worse and worse. By the time I got to the living room, I noticed the smoke. LOTS and LOTS of smoke filling the room. YIKES! Panic mode kicked in full force and I tore down the hallway back to my bedroom to get some clothes on.
Okay ... now this is what bothers me ... with the FIVE loads of laundry laying around on the floor (I always put them on my bed to force myself to put them away and then end up throwing them on the floor when I’m too tired to deal with.), I could not find ANYTHING to put on! What’s up with that? In my mind I was thinking, “Bathrobe! Bathrobe! Bathrobe!” and completely blind to the clothes around me.
Finally I gave up on the bathrobe. I grabbed the first sweatshirt I could get my hands on in my closet. Turns out it was my twenty-year-old ratty UMD sweatshirt. Very lovely.
Then, I realized I still didn’t have any pants on. So my mind started screaming, “PJ’s! PJ’s! PJ’s!” Which of course I could not find! Ran into the bathroom ... not there. Ran back into the bedroom. Finally found them in the laundry pile.
Do you know how much valuable time I wasted looking for clothes?
Now ... time to call 911!
Ran into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. No dial tone! Ran back into the bedroom and dug around in my bed for my cell phone. Found it! Dial 911! Grab a cat! Run down the hallway and out the door.
911: “Hello? 911. What is your emergency?”
Me: “Smoke! A lot of it! I don’t see any flames!”
No clue what the rest of the conversation was, but I remember her saying a truck would be on its way.
Shut the cat in the car. Ran back in the house. Grab the other cat. Call the landlord as I’m running out the house again.
Landlord: “Hello?”
Me: “FIRE!”
Hang up. Throw cat in car. Back into house. Gotta get the gecko!
Oh ... damn ... it’s cold. Need a coat. Found a vest. Oh ... the gecko! Gecko into vest pocket. Back outside.
Dog! Back into house. Got dog.
Run outside and start banging on the door next to mine.
Firetruck and ambulance screaming down the road. (Thank God the department is only four blocks away!)
The firemen get out of the truck and I told them I couldn’t get the women upstairs to answer their doors. All of them ran up the stairs and started pounding on the two doors.
Then, the creepy weird guy from the basement comes walking out and sees the firetruck and ambulance and says, “It was just a small fire. We put it out.” And turned around and went back down.
Huh? What?? Just like that!?
So the firemen came down to where I was and one said, “What did he just say??” Then they took off after him. As I’m standing there watching all these guys going past me I had two thoughts.
One: “Oh my God. They are cute!!!”
Two: “Oh my God. What am I wearing!!??”
That is when I took inventory of my salvaged wardrobe find. And yes, I am totally aware that at times like this it shouldn’t matter. But cut me some slack. I am a chick. In a highly stressful situation. Without chocolate.
Oh damn..... ratty UMD sweatshirt... purple pajama bottoms with shoes printed all over them... one flip flop with rainbow stripes... one flip flop with rainbow polka dots... a white down vest (with a gecko in the pocket)...
Then my hand went to my hair. Oh double damn, the god awful bangs that I just HAD to have ... standing straight up.
Glasses on.
Mascara smudged under my eyes.
Good Lord, please open up the ground beneath me and swallow me. NOW!
Since I knew the fire was out, I stormed back into the house to start opening windows and try to get the laundry off the floor and odd and end things to distract myself.
Next thing I know, crazy lady from the basement was standing by my back steps because they had made her leave her apartment.
****Side note: I have not seen her come out of the basement since early December. But we knew she was alive down there because she was yelling through the floor that she was going to call the cops because we were walking on our floor (hardwood) too loud. I even told Noah last week I thought maybe he had her tied up down there. You know... like Sloth in “Goonies”....) (Also... We do not exactly see eye-to-eye on ANYTHING and have a bit of negative history in the eight months they’ve been living in the basement.)****
Anyway, she’s standing by my back step and saying something. But at that point I was LIVID! She was trying to act like she had no idea how a fire could start from a candle burning all night, melting into the stereo it was sitting on and start an electrical fire.
So, I said, “SHUT UP! Get away from my dog and my door! DO NOT speak to me! EVER! Just shut the f#$k up!”
Yeah ... I admit ... maybe a little out of control.
Then she REALLY started going crazy on me.
I walked into the other room.
Next thing I know, the landlord is screaming around the corner in his truck... over the curb... through the yard... and onto the sidewalk. Yeeeee-haaawwww! Flippin Dukes of Hazzard move there! Let me just mention here ... he lives over fifteen miles away. And it had been less than ten minutes since I called him.
Anyways, he walks up and crazy basement lady starts the same....”I don’t know wh....”
“SHUT UP!” he says. “JUST SHUT UP!”
Hehehe, I love my landlord.
Then she starts carrying on and pointing at me saying, “And then you have HER. That witch! That evil nasty creature!”
I glanced over at three of the firemen who were standing next to me and found them staring, in awe, at the spectacle of what was happening. Then they looked at me. I simply shrugged my shoulders and said, “Welcome to my life. Good morning!” and walked back into the house.
Fast forward about ten minutes.
I now notice that the dog is getting kind of fidgety and nervous being tied up outside by all these guys. True, she was loving the attention. But then I realized her routine had been messed up as bad as mine and that she ... ahem ... needed to take care of some business.
So, I untied her so she could go into the yard. But she was acting too nervous so I decided to walk her on the sidewalk on the other side of the house.
After she did what she needed to do, we headed back toward the back of the house. I had my hands in my pockets the whole time and was trying to keep the gecko warm.
And he bit me! Hard! I’m talking “skin flap hanging on the tip of my finger” hard! Between the pain and the shock of it, I screamed. Loud. Yeah. REALLY loud.
Next thing I know there are three firemen running around the corner of the house to see if I’m okay. Lovely.
I mumble to the chief, “The gecko bit me.”
Chief: “Excuse me?”
Cute Fireman #1: “Ahem ... she has a gecko in her pocket.”
Chief: “Oh. I see.”
And I know I just ratcheted up my (in)stability notch a tad bit more.
That’s when I realize how cold my feet were suddenly. In my distraction over the bite, the flusteredness over the questioning, I had started walking through the yard. Still covered in snow. In flip flops. Instead of the dry sidewalk.
Oh yeah. We have a winner here!
Get up to where they are all standing and am sucking on my finger trying to decide if I need to bite the skin flap off or not. And wondering what kind of diseases domestic reptiles carry.
Cute Fireman #2: “Are you okay? Do you want me to call the ambulance back for you?”
Ah, yeah. No thanks.
After about two hours, everyone was finally cleared out of there.
A couple hours after that, I realized my lungs, throat, and head were not feeling too hot.
A friend demanded that I go to the hospital. A triage nurse at the hospital directed me to Urgent Care.
Two and a half hours later ... staring at the walls forever ... vitals taken ... staring at the walls forever ... exam ... staring at the walls forever ... chest x-rays ... staring at the walls forever.
I get put on Prednisone for four days.
Me: “Wait! What? Doesn’t that stuff make you fat??”
Dr: “Not in four days. It will make you irritable, crabby, and give you insomnia.”
Me: “But I don’t need that stuff! I already have irritability, crabbiness, and insomnia! I’m a student for God’s sake!”
Dr: Silence … and raised eyebrows. “Those in the medical field REALLY DO make the WORST patients.”
God. I need a nap.
