So as this New Year is upon us and
nearly the first month is over, one of the “resolutions” I have resolved is
that if I am to have a Blog I will actually write in it! I know…crazy right?
But why not give it a shot… I may just be one single guy with tons of nieces and
nephews, brothers and sisters, and limitless creativity (I know super modest,
right, hahah), but spending a few every week ain’t that hard.
So many, many months ago you were
informed of “crazy neighbors” with emotional issues. Well, it seems that
location just had it out for me…
This story begins the day after my
thirtieth birthday. Almost 3 months ago now, I had begun preparations for
moving earlier that week. Boxes had been packed; floors cleaned; and old
mattresses taken to the dump. A bed was made on the floor out of heavy blankets,
just something short-term for a couple weeks rest. On my birthday, I went to
the local bar and had a beer…kept the evening relaxed and unexciting as the
next morning would undoubtedly bring many frustrating emails and ringing
phones. I drank the beer, and went home and slept. All that next day was
progressively worse. By the early afternoon, my head was swimming. Since I was
working from home, I simply laid down on my make-shift bed and fixed my eyes on
my laptop screen. I could feel my eyelids flapping back and forth in slow
motion as I fell asleep.
They say that in high-stress situations,
your nervous system releases a flood of hormones, like adrenaline and cortisol
to rouse the body for action. They say that in this time while your heart is
pounding faster and your muscles tighten, while your breath has quickened…that
your senses are sharpened. Well that day after my thirtieth birthday, that
afternoon after I had passed out on a few blankets on my wood floor, something
happened. I awakened, as if I had only just fallen asleep, but to dark. And to
the horrific screaming of an alarm. I rolled off of the blankets and staggered
towards the sound as quickly as possibly not quite sure what I was slipping on.
As I entered the bathroom from where the painful noise emanated no light turned
on, I was immediately hit in the face with cascades of water spraying from the
fire alarm sprinkler system. I ran to the North facing glass wall as I saw
flashing lights, but something was wrong. All I could think was to stick my
hands in the air to block the never-ending flow of water. Finally, firefighter
busted through the door, one after another. I blindly and barefooted, staggered
through my continually flooding apartment as broken glass began floating
throughout, unknown to me. Yelling for some tools, I went to my toolbox and
brought them to the fireman-now-mechanic who had busted the sprinkler off the
wall hoping the others would manually shut it off. As the water flow ceased, I quietly chuckled as
I looked around and noticed that I had been looking for a reason to get rid of
some things, flooded with dirty water and broken pieces of glass seemed to make
the choices for me. I grabbed a bright orange “Wet Floor” cone that I just
happened to have in my closet, set it out my front door, and left.
