Name: margalit
Location: Massachusetts, United States Professional writer, educational advocate, opinionated ultra liberal mother of 18 year old twins, living life in the slow lane due to hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, congestive heart failure, and diabetes.

email: margalitc at yahoo dot com

View My Complete Profile

My Amazon.com Wish List

Rate this Blog at Blogged

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket



Alltop, confirmation that we kick ass

Powered by FeedBlitz

Subscribe with Bloglines

Blog Search: The Source for Blogs

Add to Technorati Favorites


Powered by Blogger

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Back to New Hampster #20

We're all sitting on this horrid old red sectional sofa. Sitting is more like slouching as we're all wrecked. It's gotten dark as we've sat there, and I was sitting across from a window directly to the right of the fireplace. There was a roaring fire, it was warm and cozy, but I kept imagining that I was seeing fireworks outside. I looked and looked and in my sad little confused mind, there must have been some fancy fireworks show. I must have watched this display for at least a quarter hour before I said something akin to "hey, do you guys see the cool fireworks outside?"

Everyone looked and ooohed and aaaahed over how pretty it was before it dawned on any of us that what we were looking at was not fireworks. It was a chimney fire. Yes, the frigging chimney was on fire, there were sparks and flames shooting out of the roof, and the only thing that saved the house from a complete conflagration was the fact that it was raining out.

The neighbors next door came over and told us that the chimney was on fire. He had already called the volunteer fire department, who arrived to find a bunch of very stoned morons watching the sparks flying up to the sky. It was so pretty. It was so dangerous. It was so stupid.

The firemen put the fire out and ordered Gary's friend not to use the fireplace again until it was swept and repaired. The house was filled with smoke and we all smelled like we had lived in a smokehouse.

We slept there that night, with Dawn and I sharing the sofa and Gary hanging out with his friend. Once we were a bit more sober, Dawn and I had a frank discussion of what a loser Gary was, and she told me stuff about him that made me want to run all the way home to Boston.

The next morning we got up, and Dawn and I wanted to go back to my house, but Gary didn't want to leave. He was having a great time with his friends, so Dawn and I took my car and left him there. It was so much more pleasant without him. As you can imagine, that relationship was doomed, but every time we speak of him, we talk about that chimney fire. It's amazing we weren't all killed. That pretty much put an end to my druggie days, too. Thankfully.

To sponsor me, please click here. Remember, I'm blogging today to raise money for Children's Hospital in Boston, which takes sick children from all over the world without regard to their ability to pay for services.

Labels: ,

Digg! Stumble It! JBlog Me add to kirtsy


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home

Copyright, 2003-2011 by Animzmirot Design Group. All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval without written permission from Margalit, the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. In other words, stealing is bad, and if you take what doesn't belong to you, it's YOUR karma.