I've slept through five alarm fires next door
It was all a pretty big deal, I suppose. Friend invited me to her daughter's something-or-other party. Many teens, some food, a show of solidarity for some reason. Back home, and in my office, fell asleep on the floor on a papasan cushion I used for meditation. Woke to a visual riot of red emergency lights next door. Every EMS crew for miles around was there. Fancy equipment! We get to use it! YAY
And many members of our fine constabulary doing cop things.
Story turned out to be about how the next-door-neighbor stabbed and killed his wife, set the house on fire, and went to the nearest watering hole to brag to his friends. Swift arrest followed, tried and convicted, forget how many years they gave him. Many.
This is the point where a good ghost story is conjured up for the telling. What I know from former roles is I hate reporting on fire fatalities the most. Burglar makes his way into a sporting goods store through the ventilation duct. Steals whatever it is he's looking for (I suppose), and sets a fire to cover his tracks. Gets stuck in the shaft on his way out as the fire takes hold and all —
all — the ammo goes off.
I fought my fight, I say today over coffee. And this is a good convo with @mikeoso for how is it to be called back for one more mission?
Exactly so. This evening my esteemed colleague of absolutely
years rang me up. I know her
far too well. She does not engage my attention unless there is work to do. There are hundreds of hours of our recorded work that I might only describe as unlike anything I know about anywhere. And we binned it early this year. All of it. This is the first I've heard from her since so ...
... so she likes the cat bass
and so do I