Me, earlier this afternoon: I slept nearly ten hours last night. I am re-reading Michael Powell's Edge of the World (200,000 Feet on Foula, 1938). I am enjoying a pumpernickel bagel with cream cheese and lox and I look forward to meeting ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rushthatspeaks later this afternoon for a double feature of Safe in Hell (1931) and Heroes for Sale (1933) at the HFA.
My building, shortly afterward: ALL THE FIRE ALARMS GO OFF.
I called the property manager. I called 911.spatch was at work. I got myself into my clothes and the cats into their carriers and my computer into its bag and all of us outside on the sidewalk in under ten minutes. Hestia had to be scruffed and the clamor of the alarms stressed Autolycus so badly that he threw up under the bed. I am getting great practice if I really have to emergency-clear out of anywhere. The fire department came; confirmed it was the right thing for me to have called them, especially since the property manager had said that a glitch in the alarm system should reset after five minutes and it had been much longer than that by the time there were firefighters at the door; determined the smoke alarm in our living room is elderly, needs its batteries changed, and may have overreacted to our upstairs neighbors lighting candles; left. I called the property manager back. I called Rob back. I took the brave cats upstairs and fed them treats and petted them and got dressed properly and have given up on trying to get my heart rate back to normal and am leaving right now for the HFA because last week it was moths and this week it is fire alarms and I am not missing my pre-Code Wellman date with my partner for anything short of the San Francisco earthquake and fire, damn it. But this is unnecessary.
rushthatspeaks later this afternoon for a double feature of Safe in Hell (1931) and Heroes for Sale (1933) at the HFA.My building, shortly afterward: ALL THE FIRE ALARMS GO OFF.
I called the property manager. I called 911.
spatch was at work. I got myself into my clothes and the cats into their carriers and my computer into its bag and all of us outside on the sidewalk in under ten minutes. Hestia had to be scruffed and the clamor of the alarms stressed Autolycus so badly that he threw up under the bed. I am getting great practice if I really have to emergency-clear out of anywhere. The fire department came; confirmed it was the right thing for me to have called them, especially since the property manager had said that a glitch in the alarm system should reset after five minutes and it had been much longer than that by the time there were firefighters at the door; determined the smoke alarm in our living room is elderly, needs its batteries changed, and may have overreacted to our upstairs neighbors lighting candles; left. I called the property manager back. I called Rob back. I took the brave cats upstairs and fed them treats and petted them and got dressed properly and have given up on trying to get my heart rate back to normal and am leaving right now for the HFA because last week it was moths and this week it is fire alarms and I am not missing my pre-Code Wellman date with my partner for anything short of the San Francisco earthquake and fire, damn it. But this is unnecessary.
