Would you get rid of a Friday?

Samoa has decided to place itself on the other side of the international date line. To do this they had to skip a day. They picked December 30 - a Friday - to skip!

Who would skip a Friday? Friday is a good day - it's the run up to the weekend.

A Monday - most people who work a Monday to Friday workweek would gladly lose a Monday.

Tuesday - that's a good day. Monday is over, and you have time to get stuff done on a Tuesday.

Wednesday - that's the day I would get rid of. It's "hump" day. Once you get through Wednesday you are on your way to relaxing on the weekend. Getting it over with in the blink of an eye sounds like a marvelous idea to me!

Thursday - that's another good day. You can still get lots of stuff done, and the weekend is almost on you, so you have something to look forward to.

Friday - if you have mindless stuff to get done, Friday is your perfect time to do it. I've never been able to do anything solid after noon on a Friday. Anything I write is basically a write-off on a Friday. (What time is it now... oh, maybe I shouldn't be blogging right now... oh well, it's just for fun.)

Saturday - hands off. No one skips a Saturday.

Sunday - lazy sleep-ins and indulgent breakfasts at mid-day. No one in their right mind would get rid of a Sunday, and if they did, they would find themselves alone in taking on Monday before they have to.

Fire? What do you mean there's actually a fire?

I've been living in apartment buildings for a good 25 or so years now. I've lived through dozens of false alarms in these buildings. The alarms go off. Depending on your state of mind, and how high up you are, you either:

• curse the noise and wonder who set it off this time
• run to your kitchen to make sure you aren't the one on fire
• go out onto the balcony and look to see if there are any flames
• get out of the building, then find out if any of your neighbors who are outside know where the fire is

I find as we get older, the more cautious we are. We now choose to get out of the building, and then try to find out what, if anything, is on fire.

Of course, I use a wheelchair when I'm not in my home now. Getting out of the building takes on a whole new dimension now.

Luckily, my spouse is a runner of marathons and trail races. When we hear the fire alarm he runs downstairs and outside on an advanced scouting mission to see if there really is a fire, and reports back to me.

This morning he reported back yelling "Get up! There really is a fire!"

So much for the nice sleep-in I was having.

I can still walk short distances, slowly. Somehow my spouse had found 2 guys I may know in the building, they looked familiar - probably some maintenance guys doing work in the building. They did offer to carry me down, but that's just not appealing, and I can walk short distances, slowly. So I grabbed some clothes and threw them on, and they grabbed my manual wheelchair and one of them took it downstairs for me. OK, so when I make it downstairs, I'm good. Now it's just a matter of me making it downstairs.

So slowly, grabbing the railings, with one guy in front, and my husband behind me, I made it down a flight, then stepped aside to rest and let others get past on their way down. Then I started on another flight, and when I was almost down, half a dozen axe-carrying fire fighters came up, so I grabbed one railing with both arms and said "OK, go around me!" The fire was on the roof.

My goodness, firemen are large examples of the human form aren't they? One of the firemen offered to call in other firemen to carry me downstairs. I was doing OK, so I declined.

Thankfully, we are only on the fourth floor - or actually just three floors above the lobby, which has a ramp down to ground level. I made it down, and was very happy to see my wheelchair. Then outside we went.

Luckily it wasn't raining, but it was cold, and I didn't have shoes on - only socks - because I walk better when I can feel the ground with my feet. One of our neighbors manages the apartment building next to ours, so he let anyone who wanted to stay warm sit inside the lobby of that building.

Once the fire was out, we were told we could go back home. What started the fire? The elevators. The terms being used were "melted" and "you can't see much because of the smoke damage" in the room on the roof with the elevator controls. So none of the apartments were burned, which is good. But now we have no elevators. Probably won't have elevators for at least a week - and that's a hopeful evaluation. So we can all go home now... back up the stairs. 

Oy Vey.

I just looked up the term Oy Vey in Wikipedia. I'm using it in a very appropriate way. It means "oh pain".

Long story short, I made it back up to my home, but my arms are very tired, and the muscles of my best leg have complaints and grievances to discuss with me and the other leg.

So yes, we actually had a fire. And I have to report, after 25 years of false alarms, all the thinking "what will we do next time if it isn't a false alarm..." does make it easier to deal with when it really is a fire. So maybe the false alarms aren't just annoying. 

And man, are firemen huge, or what!

PS - my horoscope for today said: "If someone says you should not be concerned about what is going on in your immediate environment that means you should be very concerned indeed. Go out of your way to find out what it is – then act."