We had a fire alarm. No idea what set it off, but of course we all have to evacuate. Gertrude runs and hides at any noise, not just a fire alarm, so the chances of me getting hold of her and carrying her downstairs are less than none. So I grab my cell phone and head on out.
My neighbor is out at the same time. We start down the stairs (I do NOT do stairs), and halfway down she remembers that the door at the bottom is blocked off for no apparent reason. So back up we go, down the hall, down the back stairs, which for an inexplicable reason have more stairs than the front. I am going down one slow step at a time, leaning on the cane, people passing by. One person asked if I needed help. That was nice. Made it out. Stood there, decided to walk around to the front door. No stairs to get to the elevator, which you can use AFTER the fire department clears it. Look at my cell phone thinking I will call Tess, notice that it seems to have morphed into my wireless mouse. Hmmm. They are both the same color.
I will not be able to walk tomorrow. The pain will be back, too. Oh, joy. At least there wasn’t an actual fire. Been a few years since we’ve had an alarm, and only once has it ever been an actual fire. Very small mostly smoke fire, at that. It of course was winter and freezing and pouring rain and we had to wait forever while they made sure there was no fire in the wall, and brought in huge fans to blow the smoke out. That was fun. I was holding Simon the entire time, and he was not loving me for it. So how exciting was that? Not very, I guess.