I feel so strange.

And I'm not exactly sure as to why that's the case. I should feel relieved!

Yesterday. Fire. In the laundromat below one of the apartment buildings that comprise our complex.

All right, I'll try to speak in coherent sentences. Yesterday, during the heavy downpour, one of the drying machines became inflamed, most likely because it was overused and overheated. It started out small, as most fires do, I suppose. It was really small, though...the rear end of the one-and-three-fourths-meter tall machine just glowed brightly until my mom ordered me to fetch Louis/Luis, a dude who works for the superintendent. And I did fetch him. But I was smiling. And I don't know why.

I felt so strange! Accidents like this don't happen often to me, and when they do, I always find a way to blame myself. When my mom collapsed because of hyperglycemia, I felt like it was my fault for not being able to perform CPR (I was in the 7th grade at the time). And guess what? I know CPR now; I guess all I can do is hope I never have to use it, right?

And yesterday, I wasted two more dollars of my mommy's hard earned money by not forcing the quarters into the washing machine. Oh, and Louis/Luis paid out of his own pocket. >.< Right. So. I slammed the door of the dryer after putting in some more clothes (say, it's been a while since I helped my mother with the laundry) and the next thing I knew, I saw blue. And then yellow, and soon afterwards, orange. I guess it wasn't my fault, since my mother later informed me that the machine was a lot hotter before she started using it [LOL, it's so popular that none of the men and women who use the laundry-in-the-basement can keep away!]. It probably would have happened even if my mother and I had stood in different positions, except for the fact that my mom still would have been relieved.

This makes a great segue. After Louis/Luis came, he saw the fire, went to the fire extinguisher, broke the glass with his own hands, put out the fire, and then mopped up. (He's so old, but he works so hard!) Promptly, my mother walked over (but still stood at a distance) and casually remarked something along the lines of, "Hey, you know, we're all lucky I stick around with my laundry, unlike those other people, who stuff their belongings into the machines and [march out]." Well, she said it in Bengali, but I think I've translated that well...

To my surprise, Louis/Luis agreed. He even was a bit relieved that we called him so quickly, I think, because he mentioned something about what would have happened if the fire had gone up a couple of pipes that were right above it. What would have happened, you ask? I think something along the lines of "the entire complex going up in flames" would be the answer to that question.

Why am I writing about this? I think it's partly because of the guilt I felt (which I need not feel, according to mummy dear), but also because I was smiling and I couldn't stop. I guess it was just a bit exciting, in relation to the drone of day to day life during summer vacation. It wasn't a big incident, mind you. Just something strange. My first fire. Well, there was the wildfire...but that was during the Taconic trip. My first domestic fire, then.

After the incident occurred, my mother and I went to the supermarket. The shopping was pretty...typical. I hate shopping, to tell the truth, especially if it's with my mother. It's worse when we go to the mall, and I'm only able to avoid that when I've got homework. Right, anyway, there was this guy. Pretty tall actually, and half-cute. He tried to flirt. I'm not sure how to feel. I ignored him, actually. I'm not sure what I would have done if my mother wasn't around. If only he could age backwards by ten years...not that age is a problem for me. It's not, really. But there's such a thing as too far apart, like my mum and dad.
The drone of day to day life during summer vacation...right now, I'm studying chemistry, reading books, listening to music, and catching up with blockbusters. I never watch movies while school's in session, and I don't know if that's a conscious decision or just something enforced by my three parents (the third being my 20 year old college brother). Well, that's not likely to change soon, anyway.

Well, then. I think I shall speak more about what I'm doing in my next post...and that depends on when I can use my laptop to hook up to the Ethernet cable. You see, my brother doesn't want me to blog. Meh. What do I care what other people think? As long as he doesn't tattle, I'm fine.

See you on Wednesday!