Actually, I'd prefer an alarm clock.

The day started with loud banging on my door and shouts of "evacuate the building!" I opened the door to find a firefighter going door to door with the warning "there's an active fire on the third floor." I slipped a housecoat over my mismatched jammies, put on my oxygen, put my 'go bag' with all my meds into my granny cart, headed out of my garden level apartment and up the stairs and out of the building. The next hour was spent in the courtyard with other tenants as we watched the firefighters go about their business. It was a relief to see my friends who live on that floor, their apartment is right across the hall from where the fire started.

Long story short, that tenant had forgotten the food he was cooking on the stove, and left the building to run an errand. The fire, such as it was, was confined to that stove; the smoke came from burning plastic. The firefighters told us there were no injuries and let the occupants of the lower floors back into the building, the upper floor was going to require some time to remove all the smoke. My friends tell me it really stinks up there.

As they were removing their ladders and rolling up the hoses, one of the firefighters turned around; on the back of his coat in large yellow letters was my last name. It made me smile, as my older brother and his son are both retired firefighters. Made me even more thankful for the good outcome. And I came back inside very much looking forward to that first cup of coffee with which to toast all first responders.

Happy weekend, y'all.

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