Not five minutes ago, the New York Fire Department came to my door. I'd heard the crackling of their radios and assumed that the cops were visiting for whatever reason--they visited about two months ago when my next door neighbor's elderly father had a freakout and broke the street-facing window of his apartment by hurling a hammer through it--you know, usual New York stuff. I didn't pay it any mind until I heard that sharp, official ratatat on my door.
"Just a second!" I called, yanking off my fuzzy bedroom slippers and throwing them under the couch, because nothing makes you feel more vulnerable in the face of authority than being caught in your slippies. At least I was still rocking my office hair and jewelry. I also did a quick check for illegal materials before I opened the door. I don't know why. Instinct, I suppose.
But it wasn't a cop--it was a fireman in full uniform, oxygen tank, axe, boots, helmet, the works. I immediately began to simper, helplessly, against my will, in the presence of this alpha male, this golden god among base clay mortals. Is there anything more heroic than a fireman? (Batman doesn't count, though it pains me to admit it. He's not real.)
"Hi! Is there anything wrong? Should I evacuate?"
"Nah, we got a call about a gas leak. Smells like paint though." He peered into my apartment. "Is that Mystery Science Theater 3000?"
I'm watching an MST3K episode and it was paused on my monitor when I opened the door to my new soul mate. "Yes. Yes it is." And there's room on this couch for two if you leave the axe outside, big boy.
"Lost Continent. I haven't seen it before."
"Niccce." Yes. He stuck the 'c.' Thank the lords of Asgard I stashed those slippies.
Then a troupe of them came clomping down the stairs with another girl in her pajamas and office hair, only she still had her bedroom slippers on. She was saying, "They've been doing construction in hat apartment all month, I guess they just painted, but it seriously smelled like gas."
In my mind, I thought, Bitch, don't box block me, I've got this one on my hook. "Is everything okay, then?" I asked, attention on me, attention on me.
"Yeah, it's fine, just keep your windows open. Have a good one." I will now, good sir. I will now.
He wasn't even that pretty-looking, really, I guess I'm just a sucker for a guy who rescues people from burning buildings and probably has the Rebel Alliance theme from Star Wars running through his head while doing so.