Hello, Mr. Kleeman? Err, David Kleeman?
Umm, hi, this is Todd from Devlar Properties… your apartment is on fire.
The fire department is there, and from what I gather it was mainly in the kitchen and partially the living room. Ummm, you definitely won’t be able to stay there tonight or anything, and we’ll do what we can to get this fixed as soon as possible, but…
So, I should probably go home, then.
And that’s how my day has shaped up from 5PM on. It is probably fair to say, in fact, that my life drastically changed from 5PM PST 11.09.05. The good news is that I can buy all new stuff. The bad news is that I have nowhere to put it.
You should see the pictures.
You will, don’t worry.
The fire started in the kitchen, apparently due to some kind of electrical failure. The kitchen is very much destroyed. Whole objects were missing when I got there: a table, a rather complicated fish tank. The microwave was still there but it was near unrecognizable.
My friends say I am dealing with it remarkably well. This impression is probably due to all the witty quips. Here are the notable ones I remember:
>.: (to a fireman upon walking up to the scene) What smells like smoke?
.: (to the crowd around my house) Is anyone interested in some recently defrosted chicken?
.: (to myself, out-loud, in the kitchen) At least I don’t have to do my dishes…
.: (To my friends who came to survey the damage) Feel free to take anything as a memento… (followed by) …maybe we could all ash-up under the eyes like football players?
.: (to myself) What smells like… cinnamon?
Having never dealt with this kind of emergency, I now understand how damaging fire really is. It’s not even so much the flames, it’s the smoke. Everything, abslutely everything I own is either ruined, or at least several deep cleanings away from salvation. If the amount of time it took me to just get the black off of my hands is any indication, I am in dire need of some serious cleaning products.
More to come.