smells I don't like, one specifically.
I woke up to a smell I've grown to dread this morning...
burning plastic... very very burnt plastic. Along with this terrible odour, I heard the sounds of numerous men talking amongst themselves and the occasional static of a radio... I thought to myself, what is going on? Has the government locked in on the suburban terrorist finally? Have they fried my computer so I can't continue spreading dischord to the people?... Then reality kicked in and I realized I'm not nearly influencial enough, or important enough, or even subversive enough for the government to waste money on detaining me... so mode 2 kicked in and it dawned on me... the fire department...
I thought, okay, so the neighbour's house is on fire, cool, but then I realized it smelled too strongly of plastic to be the neighbours, and after a quick glance out my window I realized the firefighters were running past the neighbour's house and towards the back of mine.
So I put some pants on and went outside and sure enough, blocking the driveway were 2 firetrucks, 6 firefighters, and a very distraught looking house-neighbour (my house has 6 apartments in it) so I went over to get the skinny on things, and lo and behold, the kitchen which is actually CONNECTED to my bedroom by a blocked off doorway was ON FIRE. The neighbour had turned on the wrong element and something on it (plastic) burst into flames and it was a mess and I watched as the firemen carried a charred stove out of the doorway beside my beside my room. I had one of them come over to my place to make sure there wasn't any movement of the flame, or smoke damage, and my cat wasn't freaking out or anything, so I figured I was okay, but there was a firehose ominously placed towards the doorway, and I really don't feel like having my room flooded... but I think they managed to contain the blaze without using (or overusing anyways) said hose.
About half an hour later everyone was gone, but my landlord is still lurking around the premises and frig this place smells like charred plastic.
So that is my fun story of the morning... my house was on fire!
Booya.
burning plastic... very very burnt plastic. Along with this terrible odour, I heard the sounds of numerous men talking amongst themselves and the occasional static of a radio... I thought to myself, what is going on? Has the government locked in on the suburban terrorist finally? Have they fried my computer so I can't continue spreading dischord to the people?... Then reality kicked in and I realized I'm not nearly influencial enough, or important enough, or even subversive enough for the government to waste money on detaining me... so mode 2 kicked in and it dawned on me... the fire department...
I thought, okay, so the neighbour's house is on fire, cool, but then I realized it smelled too strongly of plastic to be the neighbours, and after a quick glance out my window I realized the firefighters were running past the neighbour's house and towards the back of mine.
So I put some pants on and went outside and sure enough, blocking the driveway were 2 firetrucks, 6 firefighters, and a very distraught looking house-neighbour (my house has 6 apartments in it) so I went over to get the skinny on things, and lo and behold, the kitchen which is actually CONNECTED to my bedroom by a blocked off doorway was ON FIRE. The neighbour had turned on the wrong element and something on it (plastic) burst into flames and it was a mess and I watched as the firemen carried a charred stove out of the doorway beside my beside my room. I had one of them come over to my place to make sure there wasn't any movement of the flame, or smoke damage, and my cat wasn't freaking out or anything, so I figured I was okay, but there was a firehose ominously placed towards the doorway, and I really don't feel like having my room flooded... but I think they managed to contain the blaze without using (or overusing anyways) said hose.
About half an hour later everyone was gone, but my landlord is still lurking around the premises and frig this place smells like charred plastic.
So that is my fun story of the morning... my house was on fire!
Booya.