...hot town, fire in the city...

So.

Tomorrow night I was supposed to go home and hang out with my parents. My dad calls me tonight and says I can't come. Why not, I ask. "Well, you see, last night we had a bit of an accident at the house. Uh... your mother burned the house down".

What?!

Yeah. She was cooking, the phone rang, while she was talking on the phone in the other room the oil on the stove caught fire, and that's the story. Sound familiar? If it does, it's because yes this *has* happened before, earlier this year in fact. Last time, it was just the front end of the kitchen and the microwave nook above the stove. This time the microwave had a hissy fit, said dammit I'm not going down alone... and took the first floor with it. Angry, black smoke coloured the second floor, and so damage is there as well. So, the insurance people have packed everyone away into a nice furnished condo for the next 5 months while they repair my home.

My parents are thankfully all right, and my piano, though a little singed around the edges, is also repairable and (thank the lord) fully insured. This could have been much worse.

By the way, the fire happened yesterday and last night my mother called at 10:30 and asked what I was doing, ostensibly to let me know about the fire. When she asked what I was doing, I said studying and at that point I think she decided to just let me study (marks are more important than decimation of home). I asked her why she was calling from my aunt's house so late at night (the answer now being completely obvious) - she said "oh.. you know. We were bored, we thought we'd all gather around and play cards".

I can't believe I didn't question that.

God. Do things like this *happen* to normal families?!?!

Then my mother adds "But you should see this apartment! The building has a pool, we can go swimming".

Yes. That sounds lovely. We can go swimming.