
Tonight we were going about our usual business, when we heard a very loud knock on the door. When I answered the door, there was a rather upset-looking woman on a cell phone -- who told me, "There's a fire upstairs. I think it'll be ok, but you'd better get out."
Well, that caught our attention! I immediately grabbed for the kennel so that I could collect Sable (who had run under the bed at the sound of the knocking on the door). Tom grabbed our laptop, and box of "important papers" -- and put them into the car, and drove the car out of our garage. I guess we've got our priorities straight... although Sable was very unhappy, she was safe in the kennel, and Tom said that "if the apartment burned down, our brand new car wasn't going to melt with it."
We were able to speak with the woman from 2 floors up (whose apartment had the fire). She said that she had caught a pot of olive oil on fire, and the flames were immediately so high that she panicked. So instead of trying to use her fire extinguisher (or as Tom pointed out later, simply putting the lid on the pot), she collected her kids and ran, calling 9-1-1 (which is who she was calling when she banged on our door). I felt bad for her -- although there didn't seem to be a lot of damage (the firefighters told me later that they "didn't use too much water"), she had told me that because she had just moved in recently, she hadn't had a chance to get renter's insurance yet. Doh!
After about half an hour, we were allowed back in the house. Sable was happy to be out of her prison (she can't stand her kennel), and we went back to our dinner... Tom was glad that in the interim, the pot of soup that he had left on the stove hadn't caught on fire!