Nothing like a fire call to rouse you from after-dinner torpor.
The telephone rang shortly before eight. Again, the location was close by--only a mile away.
When I got there, the brush truck's strobes were flashing, but everyone was just standing around.
Apparently someone had dumped smoldering wood-stove ashes outdoors, and they caught some other stuff on fire, but the inhabitants and/or the neighbors put it out.
The truck left the fire house though, so there will be a report to file.
At least I was about 50-percent less frazzled in getting my gear together and getting out the door than last time.
"When I met you," M. said reproachfully on my return, "you were a poet."
3 comments:
I read this post several days ago, but M's comment keeps flitting through my head. "When I met you, you were a poet..."
It makes me think of the line in Twister when the fiancee says, "When you said you chased tornados, I thought it was a metaphor."
:-)
That's a good line too.
When she met me, M. thought I was a cat person -- and I do like cats.
But after ten years I brought home a Chessie pup, and she met my "dog person" side.
And now she is something of a dog person as well.
that is a truly wonderful, memorable, hilarious, and poignant ending line, chas. i love this post.
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