I would have stayed here, too, whimpering quietly into my bed clothes and willing myself to sleep had the security gaurds not opened the door and all but dragged me out of the house. "But it's *warm* and *comfortable* in there!" I protested loudly as they shepherded me outside.
Now, of course, as I was sleeping, I was naturally in the most embarrasing pajamas I could have been wearing -- the one with the see-through tank top. Yes, yes, my friends, my breasts are no longer a wonder seen only by -- okay, maybe not a few, but some. Less than have seen them now. Including the truck of firefighters who tromped into my house just to tell us what we already knew, which is that it really *wasn't* on fire in any way.
Yup. Me and my see through tank top and itty bitty boxer short bottoms were standing outside in the cold, waiting to usher them into the brave new world that is my house. And god it was cold. But at least I wasn't completely naked; no matter how close to being naked I was, I've still got that.
Now, this expereince, though, has lead me to wonder the following things:
1) Would I have moved if there was an actual fire?
2) How was I so *sure* there wasn't an actual fire?
3) Are
fox1013 and I somehow psychically connected? 4) Is there no decency in the hearts of those who schedule fire drills? None whatsoever?
I think that the ultimate conclusion that can be drawn from all of this is that if there was a fire, I'd probably do exactly what I did for the fire drill. Which is a thought that's going to fester for a while, but I think eventually I'll probably get over it. Some day.
Also: Hi. Everyone in the world just saw my breasts. Ohmygod.
I --- think that now may, in fact, be the time for sleep again.
