oota

The apartment upstairs was on fire today. The GF er…. The F wasn’t feeling well this morning so she stayed home to sleep and maybe work. She called me at 2pm with a scrambled call from her crappy cellphone saying “The apartment is on fire”. This flashes me back to an incident in March. This time it wasn’t her or my fault.

I don’t yet know exactly what happened. After rushing back to oakland from SF and stopping by for a few minutes at stella-and-rob’s place, where The F went to after calling me, we both went back to the appartment. No firetrucks were left there only two unattended PG&E trucks were parked outside. Our place looks ok and is just filled with a yucky smokey smell. The torrential rain that had been soaking me all morning has abated so we’ve opened all the windows and are trying to air it out.

Co-incidently there was a false fire alarm today at work and I had earlier in the day said “i want to go home. today is only going to get worser”.

Maybe I’m psychic.

So to re-iterate we’re ok and all our stuff is still fine. I’m just wet and tired and relieved.