I live in a large apartment community and the smoke alarms in each apartment are all linked. And they are what I can only imagine is industrial strength alarms. The kind of noise that penetrates your brain and paralyzes you. For a full ten seconds all I could think was, "Holy mother! This is the apocalypse. It has arrived at my house. Nuclear effing meltdown on my patio." After those ten seconds of paralysis, I started running around the house. The kid needed to put some clothes on. Yes. Occasionally we breakfast in our undies.
So I run to the bathroom where there is a stack of clean clothes, throw them on her and then I rush around in circles. House is on fire. House is on fire. What do I grab?
I grab my kid. Then I think to grab the dog. We put the shoes nearest us on and we go.
The Burning House Project states that what I grabbed is a reflection of my "interests, background and priorities."
Well, in reality it is a reflection of my complete inability to think of anything in panic mode.
Thank Christ my house wasn't really on fire. False alarm...or test... or whatever.
