I was given the insanely wonderful gift of going home early this afternoon from work (after a tasty, 2 1/2/ hour office birthday lunch out at Copia).
As I walked up to my apartment door, I immediately smelled fire. Not just smoke, but the smell that an actual fire makes. I sniffed the hallways up and down, and put my hand on my door (ha! just like they tell you). I opened it slowly, expecting to hear a crackling noise or see flames or something just like when I was home watching the girls when we were little and Maggie told me Brendan's room was on fire and I walked up there and cracked the door and sure enough, flames shooting off the desk!
I didn't see anything, or hear anything. I walked through my bedroom and saw Dave the maintenance guy's truck out in the backyard. Weird, I thought, I better go see what burned.
Luckily everything seemed to be under control. Dave was just burning yard waste in a barrel in our backyard, right outside my back door. I didn't go out there, just watched for a minute, and then realized that it was the pile of brush that had been sitting in the corner of the yard after he cleaned up all the stuff that fell when the apocalyptic storm hit last summer. A year ago this week actually.
I figured it'd never get done, and who cares, really. It was just ugly. But at least I know that there are WAY worse procrastinators than me. I've let dishes and laundry pile up before, many times, but NEVER for an entire year!
Well, I'm off now to enjoy my slightly longer weekend. Oh, but first, I finally got a new phone so if you could please email me phone numbers (or just text them to me, the number is the same), that would be fantastic!
Happy Weekend!
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