The Things I Would Save In A Fire

25 Jan

Have you ever had that icebreaker conversation where you discuss with someone what you would save in a fire? It’s sort of like the desert island question, but a little more realistic, because fires happen every day, but people rarely become stranded on desert islands. Well…

My and Steve’s birth certificates.
My grandmother’s ring.
My expired passport (???)
My rabbit.
My laptop.
And whatever else is floating around in my purse.

Apparently that’s my list.

How did I arrive at this conclusion? Glad you asked!

I had kind of a rough weekend. Stupid stuff happening at work; nothing major, really, but enough to stress me out. So I’m sitting here on my bed, reading a book, fretting over things, trying to relax. I hear some sirens outside and wonder if I’ve left the window open a crack, as they seem awfully loud, and come to think of it, it’s a bit cold in here. I snuggle deeper into the blankets and figure I’ll double check it the next time I get up for a drink or a snack or a hug from Steve. A car alarm starts sounding and keeps sounding for a longer than reasonable amount of time. “Your car’s being stolen!” I shout at nobody in particular. More sirens. I think to myself that no matter how sucky my weekend was, I can take comfort in the fact that at least I’m better off than whoever is in need of all those emergency vehicles.

It’s only when a fireman knocks on our door and asks to come look on our balcony that I realize, I am the person in need of all those emergency vehicles.

Apparently the balcony of the unit immediately below ours was on fire. I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that I’m deathly afraid of fire. So afraid that it prevents me from cooking lest I set the oven ablaze. Naturally, I freak out. The fireman tells us that everything’s under control and we should just stay put until we hear instructions to the contrary. Yeah, okay, except no, I don’t intend to stay put when the unit immediately below mine is burning away. I don’t care how small the fire is, and I don’t care how many firemen are on the job. Thus, I called my mother and began to hastily gather my things.

I sent Steve out to find a fireman and ask if it was okay for us to exit through the stairwell, because as much as I wanted to leave, I also didn’t want to impede their progress in, y’know, saving our home. I barely had time to change out of my pajama pants and into a pair of jeans before Steve came back with the news that the fire was already out. So… good. No harm, no foul.

It’s kind of funny because our apartment is a real mess. We’ve always thought of it as a very temporary living situation. I’ve hated the neighbourhood and rather hated the building itself from the get go… the reason we ever moved in in the first place is because the rent is relatively low. We’ve always pictured ourselves staying here for the year for which we are contractually obligated, and then moving on. So we never really bothered getting things organized. But now I’m realizing that appearances aside, we’ve got to get things organized simply so we can find what we need when we really need it. I have to wonder, had this place gone up in smoke, how many important things would we have lost tonight?

At least I can rest easy knowing I would have had my expired passport with me.

Seriously, who grabs that in an emergency??


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: