FIRE!

It's unnerving enough when a fire truck pulls up in front of my own building.  But when smoke detectors start wailing throughout the building, someone's out in the hall yelling "Fire!," and looking out the window, I spot a firefighter's ladder leaning against our building . . .  I opened my apartment door for a quick look and . . . Holy smoke!  Except that the smoke wasn't holy.  Quickly closing the door, I thought it wise to hunker down in my apartment until I got instructions from the firefighters.  Back on went the boots, wool jacket, and windbreaker.  My coat, scarf, wool beret, and gloves were tossed on a chair, in case I needed to be evacuated.  Last, but not least, I packed the most valuable possessions that I could think of, at the time:  my cell phone and charger, my external hard-drive with over 20 years of files backed up on it (my husband hoards mail, I hoard computer files), and my and my husband's tefillin (Chumashim are cheaper to replace, and even one Chumash might slow me down in the event of an evacuation, especially if I had to get out via the fire escape).  I spent the next 45 minutes alternately leaving voice-mail messages and text messages for my husband, who I knew wouldn't hear his phone because he was at an Israeli folk dance session, while standing by the open livingroom window trying not to inhale too much smoke.

It gets "better," folks--the fire was on our floor!  The firefighters were hard at work down the hall.  I poked my head out of my door often enough that I was sure they knew I was still in my apartment, then closed the door and stayed stationed at the livingroom window.

I'm happy to report that instructions to evacuate never came.  I opened my door again, and was relieved to see neither smoke nor firefighters, and many neighbors, who'd apparently self-evacuated from higher floors, returning via the stairs.  Among them were the neighbors in the apartment two floors above ours--I was happy to see that both parents, their toddler, and their baby were alive and well.

That's enough excitement for a while, thank you very much.  I'm going to "bentch gomel" (say a prayer thanking HaShem for having saved me from danger) this coming Shabbat/Sabbath in synagogue.