I actually think it’s not on my list of fears, but fire is one of my hugest most giant fears ever. When I’m not at home, I am terrified my house will burn down with my cat in it, and when I am at home, I’m afraid my house will burn down with me and my cat in it. No one asked me this, but I’m choosing to answer it because I like to hear myself talk…or read myself write. Something like that. What would I take from my house if it were on fire?
Assuming my parents were already out of the house, I would take….
My cat. Sabrina Von Squishy.
My Night Night and my MooseMoose. Night Night originated in 1973 when my brother was born. His godmother crocheted Night Night for him. Then I came along in 1976 and Night Night became mine and has not left my side since. I’ve never asked my brother how he feels about this. For years my parents said “What are you going to do when you go to college?” and my answer was “Either not go to college, or take him”. I took him. The way the dorms were set up back then, I had a room to myself and it was connected to another girl’s room by a bathroom. I actually requested a private room because of Night Night and that is not hyperbole or a lie – I was not going to go to college if I couldn’t sleep with my blankey in peace. I would chain lock the door that led to my room at night for fear my suitemate would open the door and see me sleeping with Night Night. Then the next year my suitemate was Catharine, and it was no holds barred, and not only did she know about Night Night, but she made sure I had him when we went on road trips. MooseMoose was a gift from Manager Dave and His Wife Liz when they went to Vermont/Maine and I dogsat their dog. MooseMoose was given to me on the condition that I name him MooseMoose and that I never talk about SheepSheep again. Stay tuned for the Tale of SheepSheep.
Here is a lovely picture of all my Rescue In Case of Fire things together. Night Night, MooseMoose, my Squishy Kitty, Linus Blanket (the blue one), Pink Blanket (the pink one) and the Sheepies (the sheep blanket).
Now this is not to say if I lost some of my other artifacts I wouldn’t spend months, or possibly years, mourning them. If Big Koala died in a fire, my life would not be the same. But as it happens, I don’t have a picture of him on my laptop and I am really too lazy to go upstairs to take a picture of him, so he remains off the list.
So, true story (I hate when people say that), AJ and I went to Canada a few years ago and there was a fire alarm and we had to go downstairs from our room on the 68th floor or whatever it was. AJ grabbed his phone, laptop, watch and wallet. I grabbed Night Night and MooseMoose and my hoodie. Priorities. There were also a ton of Asian people with wet towels over their faces, panicking and shoving past people in the stairwell. You would think that of all people, I would sympathize, or even join in this panic, but I didn’t. I was too busy trying to walk down 68 flights of stairs without falling.
For a really long time my parents led me to believe that there was a magical rod on the roof that absorbed lightning strikes and sent them into the ground, thereby making our house fireproof. When I say “for a really long time”, what I mean is they only told me the truth last year. Again, not hyperbole. The magical rod that makes my house lightning proof is some random antenna type thing that serves no purpose whatsoever. My house is not lightning proof at all, it’s just as susceptible to lightning as any other house. The worst part is, they had me believe this about every house we’ve lived in. And they remember NOTHING about telling me this lie. When I referred to the magical rod one day, my mom said “What? That piece of metal up there? I have no idea what that is” and my dad said “Are you crazy? You think our house is fireproof?” and that was how I learned fire can happen to me.