You know that conversation game, where someone tells you your house is burning down, you have one minute to evacuate, so what do you grab on the way out?

I got to try it out in real life last night.

We were doing our usual sitting on our asses when there was a pretty frantic knock at the door.

A woman I had never seen before informed me that the downstairs apartment was full of smoke, the fire department was on their way, and we might want to evacuate.

She turned out to be the mother of our other downstairs neighbor, the one whose apartment was NOT filled with smoke. He was fresh from Denver, and his parents and a few other relatives were helping him move. My relatives have never helped ME move. I looked around and the smokey air, the flashing lights, the frantic police officer and said, “Welcome to the hood.”

It was just an overheating space heater. Matt and I and our place are all totally fine.

So what did I take with me, before I knew it was essentially a false alarm?

I grabbed a small duffel and tossed in my camera, Matt’s camera, both of our phones and wallets, my phone charger, a diamond and sapphire ring and my favorite white gold hoops.

I stood there and looked at the framed copy of the photo collage from my mom’s funeral for about 15 seconds before deciding that it’s important to me but not irreplaceable, and I should probably head outside and see what the deal really is before turning into the crazy lady running out of her home, arms full of crap. If I had it to do again I’d have grabbed my passport, too.

Why the space heater? South Florida is in the middle of a “cold snap,” and we get 1 or 2 a year. Temperatures are in the upper 30s at night. I heat the place by baking things, but I guess some people prefer other methods. It was hilarious in the grocery last night – I mean, it’s cold but not freezing but everyone was wandering the aisles, bundled up like they were in the middle of a tundra. I do feel bad for the families who are clearly on vacation. You can just see them walking around with an “Aw, FUCK” look on their pale little faces.

Today’s Vintage Jamie:
On my 24th birthday, I talk about The Pill, then do this lame thing where I end it like the teaser for a cheesy soap. Yep, that’s a little cringey. The next day, pre-Halloween listing. And then for really good measure, I round out my first month of writing online by stupidly detailing a mistake I made at work, like a damn newbie amateur. 24 started with a bang, you guys.

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