I write this as my monster of a dog is eating the last shreds of my bra. Poor thing. Once he poops it out I must give it a proper burial indeed....or not. But anyway....

Tonight was a wonderful night to have my turnout gear washed. Of course I'll have to make up for it later, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. We set a house on fire with firecrackers. One of those "don't try this at home" stunts that you always wanted to try anyway. We also practiced flipping out of a 2nd story window onto a ladder. Lucky for me, my lack of turnout gear made me not eligible to try such harrowing stunts. I'm sure I could do it, but I'd rather have some sort of incentive. The house was on fire, sure, but I'm thinking of something more, say..oh...I don't know....my butt was on fire as well. That would cause me to hop out of that window in a heartbeat I'm sure. Oh well. C'est la vie.

Does no one find it odd that I'm supposed to be putting fires OUT, but yet enjoy creating them and/or just standing in their midst thinking "ooooOOOOoooo purdyyy". I set my kitchen on fire a few days ago...although it was entirely not my fault, to my credit. Maybe this is why I became a firefighter? To put things out when I set them on fire? But where's the fun in that? Ah well, I suppose preservation of myself and all my tools to take over the world is a must. I haven't posted in quite some time...and I knew exactly what I was going to say when I came in here and sat down...but now I've forgotten. Oh well, such is old age. At least now I'm not responsible for anything I don't remember....sort of..and can just blame it on forgetfulness...or something to that effect.