How does a leisurely Saturday afternoon of lounging on the couch with a magazine turn into a my-life-flashed-before-my-eyes moment and end with firemen in full fire-fighting regalia crowding into your tiny apartment?
By having a non-English-speaking super and an "I could care less" landlord handle the repairs on a leaking ceiling, that's how!
As the freshly repaired ceiling literally crashed all around me, Emily rushed from her room to see me curled screaming on the couch. We didn't know what to do other than stand in the rubble, and tremble, and laugh, and shake sheet rock out of my shorts, and take pictures - of course.
By the time we summoned our fireman friends from the station next door, my camera battery was completely dead, making me unable to capture the most humorous image of them all - Jose the Super's eyes as wide as saucers as the intimidating firemen so numerous in number they spilled into the hallway, informed us, "Ladies, if this is not fixed right and fast, you come over and get us."
Oh, we will, you hunka-hunka burnin love, we will!
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1 comment:
You've GOT to get photos of your hunky fireman neighbors on this blog! Seriously!
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