Jason's Girl

This is the second in a series of short fiction that I've written.

Our family is probably like any other, with its quirks and oddballs. But my cousin Riley was plain baffling.

Riley was known to take a huge amount of time to make any kind of decision. From choosing a new hair style to even picking out what to eat for lunch, consumed hours of deliberation on her part. But saying “yes” to Jason's proposal in a single heartbeat was just mind blowing.

Jason is the guy Riley dated for eight years before he finally popped the question. What does that say about how he truly felt about their relationship? Why did it take him that long to figure out he had an amazing, loving woman in his life? The guy was a loser, and everybody knew it except for Riley.

From the very first, everyone was at a loss in understanding the attraction between the two of them. For starters, Riley is 5’11” to Jason’s 5’6”. She has flaming red curly hair and he has a receding hairline. She has her Ph.D. in Medieval History and he has a bachelors’ degree in Political Science. She has the first dollar she ever earned, and he spent his first dollar the moment he earned it. Just what is the attraction?

Riley never saw herself as someone who would spark interest from anyone. She always felt awkward because of her height and because of her brilliant mind. She felt relieved when Jason came along and showed some interest.

Jason, on the other hand, majored in drinking and credit card debt and was lucky to have received a degree since he rarely attended classes. He scored when he met Riley. They have been living together for the past seven years and in all those years, Jason has never paid rent.

His logic was that Riley made so much more than he did, that it only made sense that she foot the bills. Riley just accepted his stupid logic and smiled lovingly at him. He was, and still is, using her and she just doesn’t see it!

We, as family and friends, felt an intervention was necessary to keep this marriage from happening. The question is how to make someone like Riley see the error of her snap decision?

Her birthday was coming up soon and one of our cousins suggested using a cake and ice cream birthday party as a ruse to get Riley in the same room with everyone. Cousin Marv just wanted free cake, and this was an easy way for him to get some. Riley’s mother, Victoria, thought that holding a make-believe dinner party would be a way to get Riley to come over to the house, just in case she was on a diet and would refuse the cake idea.

The reality of all of this is that Riley wasn’t going to be able to process any suggestions made without it taking several days to think about it. That is just the way she is. The entire family knows this. But it doesn’t fit into what they believe is the appropriate timetable to discuss, much less to make, an earth shattering decision such as dumping Jason. He’s so badly thought of in the family that I’m surprised Cousin Vinny hasn’t been asked to resolve the situation. Personally, I think having him involved solves the Jason issue.

That would give Riley appropriate time to mourn for a deceased finance and relieve us all of any obligation to stop the wedding. Discussion was then held on who was going to pay Cousin Vinny to do the deed. I said, “he’s family, and family doesn’t charge one another when assistance as drastic as this is needed”. Everyone agreed with me and the suggestion was made that I should be the one to contact him.

Though this is an excellent idea for getting rid of Jason, what happens if something goes wrong? I just don’t look good in orange. Everyone agreed that orange does not go well with my complexion, but that didn’t change their minds about who should contact Cousin Vinny  

Cousin Vinny is an interesting character. He loves parties, he’s crazy for kittens and he holds the door open when a date gets in his car. He’s a nice guy. Problem is he never talks about what he does for a living and there is good reason for that. He’s not a baker or used car salesman. He kills people for a living. That’s just what he does. He never talks about his profession and everyone knows better than to ask.

Contacting Cousin Vinny is nerve racking. You have to text him and wait. Once he replies, he gives a location where to meet him. The last time I met him was in a bar and this time it was at a park. One has to wait about 15 minutes at the chosen location so he can case the area to make sure that there are no cops around.

I explained to Cousin Vinny about the situation with Riley and Jason. He remembers Riley from when she was a little girl. He agrees that the situation of Jason using Riley wasn’t good. Cousin Vinny is intimidating due to his size so talking to Jason could scare him off. That would give Jason a chance not to get killed. He said he’d find Jason and have that little talk with him. If that didn’t work out, then there is always the other option.

In the meanwhile, I got an unexpected phone call from Riley. She told me she knows that Jason uses her and that he spends way too much time away from her on weekends hanging out with the guys. But she cares for him and the family needs to know that. She went on to say that she is happy with their arrangement and she can see herself married to him for a lifetime. I was rather stunned that first, she would call me, and second, that she would pour out her heart to me.

So, I now find myself in a predicament. Should I stop Cousin Vinny from his plans (which would make the family unhappy)? Or should I reflect on Riley’s heartfelt feelings regarding Jason?

I’m stumped, I want Riley happy, but I want to keep the peace within the family as well and I just don’t know what to do. It’s a hard call. I do not know what to do about this conundrum.

Update:

I told the family about Riley’s feelings and told them to let it go and see what happens down the line. Ends up that Riley got cold feet about the engagement and called it off. She also kicked Jason out of her apartment. The last we heard about Jason, he was couch surfing among his friends.

Until the next time...

I Miss You Sweet Girl

It has been two weeks since Chloe died and went over the Rainbow Bridge to run with Chancey who went there 3 months before she did. We didn’t want to make that decision, but her health had deteriorated so much, and she could barely walk. This is my letter to her.

My Dearest Chloe,

Today is Halloween, and for the past 13 years we have dressed you up as a pumpkin. This is why I always called you "Pumpkin." Today, we dressed Fast Eddie up in your costume to continue the tradition.

I miss you. You always greeted me at the door with your tail wagging and making your happy little yipping sounds. I miss that. You loved getting your daily lump of cream cheese. Did you know that is where we hid your pills?

I remember one winter you were lying on your hammock in the backyard and it was snowing. I looked out and all I saw was a large lump of snow. And, the reason I knew it was you was your nose was sticking out! You also loved making doggie snow angels. You’d flop down on your back and wiggle like crazy!

Since you were a puppy, we always gave you little pieces of food while we were eating our dinners, (which all the doggie books say not to do). You loved meat and hated vegetables. And, like your mommy, you craved whipped cream! As soon as I started shaking the container, you would appear!

Over the years, you had a few favorite toys that you carried around in your mouth. For many years, it was a toy shaped like a lamb. We purchased many over the years and would quietly replaced them as they got worn. When we ran out of lambs, we found Lambchop and purchased several of those. The last one you played with is on the shelf sitting next to your collar and the box that holds you now.

You, my little diva, had two dog beds. One in the bedroom and one in the living room. The beds are gone now. The living room feels cavernous. I so long for you to be here so I can lean over to pet you and tell you what a gorgeous girl you are. 

One thing I always told you was that you were my girl and you would be my only one. That is a promise I plan to keep. I miss you so much and my heart has a large piece missing. Baby girl, enjoy the freedom to run again. And, enjoy looking for those squirrels!

With all my love,
Mommy Sharon

This is the story about how Chloe came into our lives and I thought you might enjoy knowing more about her.

Chloe is our dog and we are her servants. She is a bit peeved that it has taken so long to get her own blog posting. She is a diva dog. She came into our lives in May of 2004 when she was seven months old. She and her brother had been abandoned in a rural area in Northern Virginia.

Our intent, that Saturday when we went to the Animal Shelter, was just to look at dogs. We were living in an apartment at the time and wanted to wait until we had a house with a fenced yard.

When we finished with the front part of the shelter, Mary went to hunt down the ladies’ room. I have limited patience, so I went ahead into the area where the dogs were kept. I started walking down the line of cages and I made it to the fourth one. And there she was, our dog – who was named Kisses.

Who would name a dog Kisses? Really? Can you see yourself calling out to your dog at the dog park “Here Kisses” or “Kisses stop that right now." Well not I.  I’m getting ahead of myself here. We had not even adopted her, and I already wanted to change her name.

Kisses had her nose right up to the chain link and she looked up at me with an expression on her face of “What took you so long to find me?” I was a goner at that point. When Mary showed up, I informed her I had found our dog.

We took her into a side room where we had the opportunity to meet her. She was very hesitant and tried to hide under one of the chairs but her cute little butt stuck out because she was too big to fit under it.

The staff member told us her story. She and her brother had been sighted many times in a rural farming area. On their first attempt, they were able to capture him but not her. A few days later they got her and at this point she was close to becoming feral.

Poor baby. She was covered in fleas and ticks. She had to be washed and sprayed several times. The flea spray that was used was quite harsh and her skin became quite inflamed. (Once we got her, we learned the wonders of Emu Oil.) She wasn’t made available to be shown to the public for several days. By then, her brother had been adopted.

The way it worked at this shelter was once you made your choice, your dog had to be spayed or neutered before going home. There were local veterinarians that did the procedure at their respective vet clinics. We patiently waited for the call to come pick her up.

She was so scared when we saw her. She was recovering from major surgery and then people she was not familiar with, were calling her “Chloe.”  Before we left the clinic, we were given some information about her that we had not expected. When they shaved her in preparation for the surgery, they found a rope burn encircling her entire hip area. They also found a pocket of skin on her side that contained buck shot that had already healed over. Who in the hell would shoot a puppy? We will never know the circumstances as to why this happened.

Our plans were to keep her in a dog crate in the apartment. That thought lasted about an hour. We had stepped out of the apartment and when we returned, we found that Chloe had bent part of her crate in the process of breaking out. What to do now? Luckily there was a doggie day care center within minutes of our apartment! They were wonderful to her there and she loved spending her days with other dogs.

About six months later, we were planning a move from Virginia to Massachusetts. We wanted Chloe to see her brother one more time, if possible, before we left the area. We contacted the staff at the animal shelter, who were kind enough to send our contact information on to her brother’s new owners. They contacted us and we agreed that a playdate was in order.

We made the arrangements to meet at a baseball park near their home. Until the day I die, I will always have this memory in my mind: her brother was already running around the bases when we showed up. They made eye contact and Chloe ran towards him. They started running side by side around the park. They had such happy expressions on their faces. They remembered each other!

Years have gone by and Chloe will turn 14 in November. She has slowed down quite a bit and running is no longer an option for her. But, I will always remember the day that she ran freely with her brother. What a beautiful memory!

Until next time…

Ex-husband #2 - Happy Birthday

Dear Ex-husband #2,

Happy Birthday. You just turned 58. I met you when you were 22 and I was 28. A lot has happened since then.

I remember when you had your 25^th birthday. I hosted a surprise party for you. I invited all your classmates from your Master’s Program. I purchased food, drinks and party favors and I kept them at David and Karen’s apartment so you wouldn’t find them.  

My big mistake and the reason you never appreciated the party was the birthday cake. When I had ordered our wedding cake earlier that year, I had looked over what was available. I saw this cake shaped like a busty woman and thought it would make a funny birthday cake. I was wrong. You felt I had humiliated you in front of your friends. Remember that?

Some of the reasons you gave for the difficulties within our marriage, was that I was six years older and had more experiences than you had growing up in a small down in Ohio. This was true. I knew how to drive a manual transmission and I married the same guy twice.

You were horrified that your classmates would find out that piece of information. You wanted me to lie to everyone that my marriage to you was my first. Like after our marriage of 11 years, you told others that you had never been married.

Toward the end of our marriage, we saw a therapist who sided with you and made me out to be the bad one in our relationship. You sighted my various faults: my age; the way I conducted myself in front of your colleagues; and that I had dated many men, prior to you. The biggie which I did own up to, was my having an affair with a co-worker toward the end of our marriage.

Starting at year three of our relationship, I started saying that we should consider the idea of not staying married, due to the fact we were not compatible in so many ways. Through the years, whenever I would bring this up, you would always say it was because I was having my period. Really???

For me, it came down to money. We didn’t have a lot but what I earned wouldn’t have gotten me a room in the Washington, D.C. area. I made do with our circumstances and I kept on going for years. We had our good moments, but there were many that did not go well for me.

Such as:

·      Within days of our buying our first home, a duplex at the end of the Metro’s Yellow Line, you made the decision to move to California. There was a well-known architect that you wanted to intern for. Since you would be making a pittance, I was to stay behind and pay all our bills while you took our only car to make the trip. How I talked you out of that endeavor, I will never know.

·       When we were in that park off the Washington Parkway and were walking on a path that was overgrown with bushes. You were in the lead. When you heard barking dogs rushing toward us, you pushed me forward to protect yourself.

·       When I went to find the bathroom in the Burger King near the White House and I came back to find you surrounded by three men demanding money. You left it to me to get us out of that situation.

·       You felt that to represent your profession, you had to dress the part. This required expensive suits, ties and Cole Hann shoes. We managed these purchases because I limited my shopping of anything personal for myself.

·      We were riding the Metro into D.C. one day when you saw a group of your colleagues get on the train. You got up without an explanation and walked over to chat. You all exited together and you walked past where I was seated and I tapped on the window. You never acknowledged my existence.

Of course, these moments I experienced are the ones you chose not to mention to our therapist. But then neither did I. By then, I was too beaten down to defend myself. I should have spoken up and been my own advocate. I felt trapped and didn’t know how to get out of the relationship. I always knew the one thing that would end our relationship was to have an affair, which I did.

One of my biggest fears of being in a marriage, was being abandoned without the ability to financially take care of myself. That was my mother’s reasoning when she thought about leaving my father when I was five and so she didn’t. So early on in my relationship with you, I broached the subject about my fear of your leaving me for someone else. We agreed that if that happened, whoever had an affair would not benefit from the lifestyle we had created. What I never considered when I made that promise, that I would be the one to have the affair. You reminded me of that conversation and told me that I should do the honorable thing.

After 13 years of being in a relationship with you, I ended up leaving everything behind. I left with $100.  As you are aware, my mother financially helped me out or I would have been living in a homeless shelter or worse, on the streets. On second thought, that $100 gave me the freedom to move on with my life.

I know that you have moved on and have remarried just like I did. I hope you have given her all the things that you did not deem necessary for me to have.

Sincerely,

Your ex-wife #1

Are You Ready?

If you were in Puerto Rico right now, would you be able to survive until help came from the U.S.? Well, from seeing the Nightly News, help has been extremely slow in getting to them. Trump mentioned that Puerto Rico was out in a middle of an ocean and is so difficult to get to. Really???

I recently saw a clip of a young woman from Brooklyn who has lived on the island for the past four years. She was beside herself because her family back in the States didn’t know her status. The reporter gave her a satellite phone so she could talk to them. She also mentioned to the reporter that the ATM machines were down and she couldn’t access her funds and she had no money. He reached into his pocket and gave her some cash. She had a shocked look on her face, and then she hugged him with tears flowing down her face.

She wasn’t the only one crying at that point. I was crying in happiness for her and, also in fear for myself. I don’t know what I would do if I were in that situation. I use my ATM card all the time. I rarely have cash on me. We have food on the shelves, but it would require an oven or at least a microwave to cook.

We, as a country, have so many blessings that we take for granted every single day. I sleep in a bed with a roof over my head and running water to cook and shower. I have a car that I am able put gas in without waiting in line for hours. I have access to wi-fi and my iPhone. What would I do if some morning I woke up, and all of that was gone?

I can’t even imagine what that would be like. But it has already happened in Texas, Florida, Puerto Rico and to folks who lost their homes to forest fires out West. But what would it be like if this devastation happened to all the lower 48 states in one day?

Well folks, between North Korea and Mother Nature on a rampage (Climate Change), the possibility is very real. When people lose all their basic necessities that they have grown accustomed to, this kind of disaster can bring out the less than noble selves. One would go to any lengths to find food and shelter to get what is needed to survive.

You may say “I would never stoop to that level” but food and shelter are basics that everyone needs and yes, without these, I would bet you would do whatever you needed to.

What do we do? Build bomb shelters? Move to Iceland? Purchase a Catamaran? Personally, I want a RV that has all the accessories to comfortably live off the grid, meaning solar panels, compost toilet, and a large stash of food and water.

What would you do? Think about all your options. The world we live in and take for granted is getting closer to the edge, every single day that Trump is in office.

Until the next time…

Ex-husband #3 – The Unanswered Letters

My marriage to ex-husband #3 should have never happened. I even had concerns prior to our marriage. I found a therapist and we spent weeks talking about him and the pending nuptials.

The main reason I kept the plans moving forward was because of my mother. She believed that a woman had to be married to be a success in life. Looking back at her marriage to my father, that should have shown her that life without a man was better than the life she had with him.

At the time of my engagement, my mother was dying of bladder cancer, and having me married off before she died was her wish. The cancer decided otherwise. She died on September 1 and we were married on September 12.

I had always wanted “a real wedding” held in a church with bridesmaids, a flower girl, a ring bearer and me wearing a fancy long dress. Plus, a sit-down dinner for friends and family at the local country club. And, a honeymoon in Bermuda. Those things did happen. A fairy tale event with a happy ending. Not quite.

Once we returned from the honeymoon, reality hit me in the face. Within one week, #3 was back to working 60 hours a week with a 90-minute round trip commute. And, I tore the cartilage in my knee and had surgery two days later.

On the trip home from the hospital, #3 insisted I sit in the front, but there just wasn’t enough room for my leg to stay straight. I didn’t think of the option of sitting in the back which I should have. I just put up with the pain for the 40-minute ride home, though I did complain the entire trip. At home, he put me in his Lazy Boy recliner and I was dependent on him to haul me out of it.  After a few hours of putting up with this arrangement, I had him move me over to the loveseat. From there, I could hobble to the bathroom and kitchen on my own.

My birthday falls on Christmas day and it was my first year without my mother to celebrate my birth. Of course, there was the new husband and his family, but they didn’t celebrate my birthday like my mother would have. I felt a sense of detachment from #3 and I know he wasn’t aware of how sad and lonely I felt about my mother’s death.

Over the next five years, I floundered along in our relationship. My collection of things grew: snow globes; teddy bears; Longaberger baskets; and of course, jewelry. These material things and romance novels kept me going. He did his hobbies and I did mine. Not exactly, my idea of a fairy tale.

During this time, I really didn’t know how he was feeling. He never participated in any of the discussions I tried to have about our relationship. I decided to write him a letter about my feelings. Here’s the interesting thing: he never commented on what I wrote. I waited days and finally asked how he felt about what I had written. His comment was, “I’m evaluating the contents of the letter.” He never responded to that one or any of the others I wrote to him. Those unanswered letters played a huge part in why my relationship ended with him.

To be honest, I was miserable. I wasn’t looking for anyone. Then Mary came into my life and we had a tryst. That choice turned into a wonderful, loving relationship, which has now been going on for 14 years. And Mary and I don’t need to write letters to each other about our relationship. That is because we communicate and share how we are feeling. Now, that is a fairy tale ending.

Until the next time…

Ex-husband #1 - I Married the Same Guy Twice. What?

A friend recently asked me “Why on earth did you marry the same guy twice?”  A reasonable question to ask, but much harder to explain. My relationship with ex-husband #1 was extremely complicated. My background prevented me from developing a solid relationship. A relationship was difficult to cultivate due to growing up with a harsh mother and father, plus making bad choices in boyfriends.

I’m going to label him #1 for the rest of this story. Remember, I have had three ex-husbands and I don’t want the other two to feel slighted that I haven’t written a story about them … at least not yet!

I met #1 when I was 24. I had dated guys prior to him, and none of them ever said "I love you" which he did say. After a brief courtship of two months, we were married in front of a Justice of the Peace and two of my girlfriends (who weren’t crazy about the marriage or him).

Three weeks into our marriage, I realized that I took on more than I could handle. He was so much like my father. Prior to our marriage we had lived together and we shared household chores. That all changed the day of our marriage as we were heading out to Estes Park, Colorado for a brief honeymoon.

We were delayed because he didn’t have any clean socks. He informed me that it was now my responsibility to do his laundry. And, of course, I did. I had learned from my mother to do whatever was asked so there wouldn’t be any angry outbursts. And, #1’s outbursts were equal to my father’s.

About a month into our marriage, he declared he was a Southern Baptist and had been for years. This was the first time that religion had ever come up in any of our conversations. He started rambling for about an hour about how his beliefs and those found in the Bible, were identical. I was shocked to say the least.

During our first marriage which lasted 17 months, he did something very interesting when it came to his religious beliefs. If it was beneficial for him to be religious he would be. When something came along that wasn’t religious in nature, and he could benefit by it, religion no longer played a part in whatever he was doing.

Case in point. He had made friends with a co-worker who had a woman on the side while still married. It happened that #1 became interested in a friend of theirs and decided he wanted to date her.

We had plans to invite my mother and step-father over for Thanksgiving dinner. Earlier in the day, #1 announced that he had leased an apartment and was moving out the next day. Wow, I didn’t see that coming at all. No hint that he was thinking of a separation much less a divorce.

During our separation, I was having a hard time with accepting what was happening. I asked him many times what we could have done to save our marriage. He never gave me an explanation as to what was the true cause of our pending divorce.

A few months after the divorce was final, he reappeared in my life. The main reason was he needed my savings to get his commercial license to fly small planes at a flight school in Vero Beach, Florida (same school that one of the 9/11 terrorists went for their training). He convinced me to marry him again, and I did. The day after the ceremony, we left Denver to move to Florida.

Two days into the trip, he lost it and showed his anger issues in a big way. He was driving a U-Haul truck and towing our car. It was late at night, and we missed the exit we needed to head south to Florida. He started cussing which turned into screaming and pounding his hands on the steering wheel. At that moment, I knew I should never have remarried him.

The final straw was two years later when we were living in Columbus, Ohio. We had ants crawling around in our kitchen. I called the landlord and asked for the kitchen to be sprayed. Several days after the spraying, I still saw a few ants in the kitchen and I asked #1, “Why are there still ants in the kitchen?” Well…he went ballistic and threw a frozen juice can at my head. Luckily, I ducked or it would have hit me. It seems, he felt that I was blaming him for the ants still being in the kitchen. Really?

By the way, the frozen juice can hit a plaque on the wall behind me, and dented the plaque. I kept that plaque for years, to remind me of the mistake I made by marrying him at all.

Our second marriage lasted only 23 months. I moved out of the apartment within a week of the frozen-juice can episode, and I immediately started divorce proceedings. 

Until the next time…

I'm Allergic to Fire!

I’m afraid of fire. You would think that I would never put myself in harm’s way because of my fears. There are three separate times in my life where I have experienced closeup the effects of what fire can do when unleashed.  

When I was a child, my mother was a nurse at the hospital on the Air Base where we lived. In her mind, to keep me safe from fire she told me how dangerous it was. Anytime someone came in that was a burn victim, I was given vivid details of their injuries.

Fire #1:
Needless to say, I stayed away from flames and I didn’t even light my first match until I was 21. And, that was only under duress from a sorority sister who thought it was time for me to deal with my fears. I did manage to light a candle, though it took many attempts, and in celebration we went down to the kitchen to get a snack.

Luckily, we came back in time. The flame from the candle had engulfed a number of magazines, and was making its way toward the curtains. I went into freeze mode, and was no help whatsoever. Quick thinking, and a cool head from my cohort kept our sorority house from burning down that night.

Fire #2:
Husband #1 and I saw an orange glow in the southern skies one night while living in Vero Beach, Florida. We rode towards the glow on his motorcycle, and many miles outside of Vero we found the cause.

A huge grove of palm trees was on fire. Many firefighters from nearby towns were doing their best to get it under control. We had pulled off the road and were close to a small group of homes. There were owners spraying their roofs down with garden hoses. There were embers in the air but we were still at a safe distance. We watched the palm trees exploding from the intensity of the heat. It looked like fireworks shooting out from the trees. We sat on the motorcycle mesmerized by the sight and sound of the flames consuming all the vegetation. Then the wind shifted.

We didn’t realize how fast the fire was moving toward us. Embers were landing around us. People were yelling and moving quickly off their rooftops. Did I mention that when we got off the main highway, we had cut through some rough terrain to get to where we were? Our only option was to ride toward the houses, and use their road to escape.

At this point, embers were hitting us, the heat was getting intense, and I’m screaming inside my motorcycle helmet. Husband #1 guns the engine and we shoot down the road weaving around debris and embers. People were backing out of their driveways, and we were competing for the same road space. Words of advice -- stay away from exploding palm trees. They can be dangerous to your health.

Fire #3:
After leaving ex-husband #2, I moved into an apartment complex overlooking the Potomac River in Washington D.C. The very day I moved in, I heard several women mention how often the fire alarms would go off in the building, and they just ignored them.That night the alarms went off. I looked out into the hallway saw nothing, and went back in.

A week later, I’m watching TV and I heard a “boom” and felt a “thud” near my kitchen. I walked in, and felt the wall to the adjoining apartment but didn’t feel anything so I went back to watching T.V. About twenty minutes later the fire alarm starts going off and, of course, I just ignored it. 

Normally, it shuts off and this time it just kept going. This time I looked out into the hallway. There was smoke, but I could still see down the hallway. What do I do? I go into my closet and start choosing items that would be appropriate to wear. It took three tries, before I found the perfect outfit. Hey, I didn’t know when I’d see my apartment again.

I opened the door again and there was more smoke and several firemen. They were breaking down my neighbor’s door and I could see flames -- lots of them. Oh shit! Did I mention I lived on the eighth floor? Next problem, do I lock my door or not? That problem was resolved when a fireman entered my apartment and checked my kitchen wall.

He said the building was well made and the fire more than likely wouldn’t come through from the adjoining apartment but they would keep checking to make sure. In the meanwhile, he strongly suggested I leave which I was planning to do but then another problem arose.

All of my neighbors were ignoring the alarm. I started beating on doors as I headed toward the staircase yelling that this was the real thing. At this point, people started opening their doors. I made it outside when I realized I should have tried on a fourth outfit. It was so cold out, and I ended up being outside for more than a hour, though it felt much longer.

I’m standing by the fire trucks, and trying to get information on how my kitchen wall was holding up, when my neighbor walks up. He must have gotten a phone call because he knew it was his place that was on fire. But he wanted to be sure, and I made it abundantly clear that it was. I said something whiny about “I’ve only been here a week.” Come to find out, the cause of the fire was the gas pipe connected to his stove had developed a crack and the fumes filled up the stove and blew off the oven door which hit the wall. Yup, that was the “boom” and “thud” I had heard earlier.

Finally, I got back into my apartment and I had a lovely conversation with a fireman about why all my windows were opened. My apartment had filled up with smoke so they were trying to air it out for me. They even loaned me one of their big fans. I realized that I would be spending a lot of time and quarters in the building’s laundry room. Even after this event, the daily fire alarms were ignored by everyone…even me.

After one burning candle, acres of exploding palm trees and one cracked gas pipe, I’ve come to the conclusion, that fire and I don’t mix. Good thing I’m an earth sign, and not a fire sign!