Recently an old friend from my Montana days (two years with my first ex, in Helena) found me on Face Book and sent me a message. We've exchanged a couple of detailed messages since. I'm really happy to be back in touch. Spent a good part of the day working on an email to her, filling in my life story, so to speak. I think she always had the hots for my ex (just kidding!). She and I were in our 20s back then. I was a little older. It so happens she had a son who turned out gay.
Last night we had some kind of minor fire here, on the 4th floor. The fire alarm was sounding in the apartment just as I was heading out to the gym, and the elevators weren't working. (Fortunately I don't live on a high floor, since I had to take the stairs.) Before I left, I was assured by the security guard in the lobby that everything was under control. (I wasn't about to go off and leave the cats if they were in any danger). When I left, the place was swarming with fire trucks and police cars, all with their lights twirling. When I got home, they were gone. I talked to the security guard again afterward and he said that the person on the 4th floor had had a flare-up in the kitchen (we have fire extinguishers everywhere), and that when he opened his door to go out into the hall, the smoke spilling out of his apartment set off the fire alarm (and thus the response from the fire department). That was the story, at least.