(no subject)

So basically, my apartment almost burned last night. Fire in the electrical room, which happens to be right by my apartment (but fortunately in a separate building).

By "right by" I mean "ten feet away, tops". It's fucking frightening to open the door, when all you think is going on is the neighbours next door fighting, only to find a hell of smoke and sparks outside your door.

After unquenchable flames failed to billow from my windows, I went home with my parents. On the way, we stopped at Walgreens, so I could have a toothbrush and a clean pair of underwear (this was a time when I would have gladly made an exception for a 24 hour Walmart, but there isn't one here) and got to watch some drunk chick and her boyfriend get arrested, and arriving immediately after some other person tried to knock off the store!

Catastrophe follows me all the days of my life, apparently, or at least that one.

This year, the fashionable castaways are wearing velvet dresses, flats, and fur coats. If it weren't for all the uninvited firemen and the shocking lack of adherence to the dress code, I would have felt stunningly fashionable.

Fortunately for me, my apartment is surgically clean this week, and I knew where my purse was. And I had gone directly to bed after walking in late, so my phone was in my purse, and nothing was scattered everywhere. I do wish I'd managed to grab the proof I need to be working on, but you can't have everything.

Need to call the fire department and find out when I can get back in. This is warring with the desire to go the Army Navy store and buy goggles.