I didn't start the fire

A tragic dorm fire killed 187 English Hall residents and two illegal kittens just after 1 a.m. Nah.

Luckily that didn't happen at all, especially because my friends were inside when the fire alarm went off. Fires and smoke setting off alarms at odd hours are an unfortunate side effect of living in a dorm fabled for the compulsive baking habits of some of its residents.

I didn't start the fire, and I have an air-tight alibi (not that I need one since the only time I've ever used the oven was to bake cookies for Matt one time when he tried to resurrect my dying computer... and that didn't work out so well). I was walking back from a study session at the Union and had just reached the sidewalk by Wengatz when the familiar fire alarm went off. My first instinct was to laugh, but I stopped that when I saw the multitudes of unhappy, groggy women filing out into the parking lot. Well, maybe I giggled a little, but can you honestly blame me? Here I am, brain frazzled from obscure New Testament facts and all of English Hall gets to share in my joy of still being awake. It felt like sweet justice.

Anyway, I was SO thankful I hadn't been in bed because that would have been the most unfun thing to happen this year... next to my car accident over Thanksgiving break. That stunk, too.

I'm also thankful that no one really died or was hurt (to my knowledge). Accidents happen, especially in the kitchen (as I well know), and everytime I'm spared I thank God for his providence. OK, now I'm just BSing because I can't think of a good conclusion to this blog and I'd like to get to bed. Good luck with day two finals!