"Now you're going to have rats!"--mother of NLG) Sweet.
I guess it was no big thing. Roommate is a huge fan of 311 ("they're so helpful!") so she whipped them a call and they said the men were just working.
Good, next time there are fire trucks on my street, sirens, emergency vehicles and men under the road, I won't panic.
Since Wednesday was the day of fire, NLG decided to have a little celebration.
Preface: We are sitting in the living room, watching the Real World DC (we dig Andrew and his attempt to de-virginize himself), and we had just finished dinner. NLG pops out of her chair and says "Well! Time to make some popcorn for tomorrow, so it goes stale!"
You like stale popcorn?
I have known the girl for 5 years, lived with her for 5 months, I feel as if I should know this absurd fact.
Anyways. I am diddling around my room, picking things up, sort of getting ready for bed. I hear her walk over to the microwave, open it, and shout "WASP!" (well my real name actually, no we don't refer to each other as our pen names in the apartment.)
I run over and see smoke pouring out of the microwave, and cozying right up to the kitchen ceiling. As a reflex, I grab a dishcloth and start waving it in front of the smoke detector (we set it of regularly). NLG throws the firey bag of corn into the sink and runs the water. She opens the window.
Amazingly enough we didn't set the smoke alarm off. However, she burnt the inside of the microwave and nearly killed us both.
It was a combination of the laughing and thick (yes, dramatic) smoke covering the apartment, that made tears stream down our faces.
Quote of the evening: "Should we go to the hospital because of smoke inhalation??"
No, NLG, we don't have to go to the hospital, we are fine and laughing, however you've made our home permanently smell like burn.
Three days letter, the stench is still going strong.
Epilogue: Next morning I slept a little later, but not without a little interruption from the smoke detector, courtesy of NLG's egg white breakfast.
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