Fire Alarm

So last week while Brad was out of town and I was here in this apartment alone with the girls, I was just settling the baby down for the night at about 10:30. She was nursing, and pretty much asleep, while the other two had been sleeping for about 3 hours. I was pleased that the baby was sleeping, and hopeful that she would go down for the night. Then this little sucka went off.


Seriously. It's 10:30 at night, and the fire alarms are blaring through the whole apartment complex. And in an apartment complex, you never know what could be happening on just the other side of your wall. So, I put Mimi in her carrier in case we had to go far, found blankets to put on her, put a shirt on me, woke up the girls with their coats and shoes, and evacuated my apartment. (This was one of the nights it was 34 degrees outside, of course.) The girls were totally disoriented, and were a little afraid at the blaring noise, and were a little teary about the whole thing.

As I was shooing them down the hall, I started to notice what smelled like burned food. Not smoke like a fire, but just burned food. I'm thinking to myself, "So help me if we had to do all this because someone left their curry on the stove for too long." I then realized that was an unkind thing to think, and was grateful that there was the fire marshall standing there in the lobby, and firemen in full getup wandering around. Evidently there was not an open flame fire, just some smoke that set the alarm off.

So, when they allowed us back in, I shooed the girls back down the hall, helped them get their stuff off, said prayers with them as they were still a little shook up, and put them to bed again. Mimi, of course, was WIDE awake, and didn't go to bed that night until 12:30. Super.

The next night? I smoked up my apartment with a quesadilla left on the stove too long. Just not long enough for the alarm to go off.

(The picture, by the way, was the POTD 4/7/10.)