Fire?

This morning my roommate Angie came into my room and said, "the fire alarm is going off in the hall. Do you think we should go down?"

1st instinct: no. I'm sleeping.
2nd instinct: Eh, maybe we should check.

Angie volunteered herself to bundle up and go outside to see if the fire alarm was legitimate (looking back, I have no idea why it wouldn't be authentic. It was 8:00am. Not exactly the perfect time for a drill. And there are no crazy high schoolers trying to be annoying on purpose running around the building). When she got to the bottom of the 8 flights of stairs, she called us and confirmed that there were lots of people outside and that we should come too.

I dragged myself out of bed. Ick. I wore long johns to sleep last night, so going in my pajamas was the worst idea known to man. I took the time to change my clothes, and as I was changing I started to panic. What if there were an actual fire? What if I lost all my stuff? My clothes and everything? I dressed carefully, choosing only my favorite things to wear. I ended up with light-colored jeans, my BYU basketball shirt, and my BYU sweatshirt. I guess we can see where my priorities are. Yeah Audrey, wear a bunch of stuff that can be replaced. Good idea.

In further preparation of panic, I put on my high school class ring. I threw my three favorite journals, my Book of Mormon, my teddy bear, and my computer (along with other necessaries from my purse: iPod, camera, keys, phone, wallet, etc), into my backpack. I was the last one out.

But as I reached for the doorknob... the building went silent. The alarm had turned off. I retreated my hand, turned around, put my pajamas back on, and now I'm back in bed. Except that I started thinking about this post, so I had to sit up and pull my computer out of my backpack.

Was my panic odd? Maybe. But it is classic Aud. Like, of course I would pack all my favorite and most valuable things into my backpack in a moment of rush. Of course.

When I was about 9, I for some reason (I have yet to find the source) became deathly afraid that my house was going to burn down. I used to have nightmares about it. I seriously used to have dreams that Nazis came to take me and my family away, and then for good measure, they would burn everything.

I was terrified. Absolutely terrified. My mom tried to remedy the situation. She bought a fire escape ladder and put it in my bedroom closet. She taught me how to use it in case of a fire. It only made things worse. (and one time, Elise and I tried to use it to escape from Andrew and Stephanie when were babysitting. We got in major trouble for that one. Apparently we're not allowed to climb onto an icy roof in an attempt to run away from home) There was a picture on the front of the box of some children and their mother climbing down a ladder with threatening fire bursting out of the bedroom window they had climbed from. The kids looks so calm, and I just thought they were nuts.

Then my mom planned a family home evening where were learned about fire safety and did fire drills from all different situations in our house. We mapped everything out and everyone got a job. We practiced and practiced.

You would think this was a great idea. You know, be prepared. My 9-year-old brain, however, thought that all the practicing and preparation just meant that a fire in the house was a legitimate concern and that it was actually going to happen, and soon. My fears reached a climax that night.

I packed all of my favorite things into my backpack and slept on the floor of my parents room, with the backpack on. I got up for school the next day, and took it all with me. If the house was going to burn down while I was at school, It was not going to lose my vtech learning computer or my new 100-color box of crayons. Or my tweety bird.

I guess that today I was reminded of that terror from years ago. I am still terrified. Illogically so. I think I may place too much value in random material things. Like I'm too sentimental about stuff. But then again, I don't see any problem in trying to save my journals and scrapbooks. Or my favorite BYU sweatshirt. And my class ring is irreplaceable.

And the conclusion is that I need to either be more prepared, or not care as much. Because honestly, if the fire today would have been at all threatening, I probably would have lost things more important than my backpack of valuables.

Best public service announcement ever.

Thursday, January 27, 2011: DC Public Schools will be closed.

I get to sleep in tomorrow. I love the snow. Love it.

take that.

Video Courtesy of KSL.com

I'm getting nervous for Wednesday's game--- #9 BYU against #4 SDSU. This video made me feel better.

And check out this article: http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1181209/1/index.htm

Steven Tyler might be my all-time favorite American Idol judge.

#9

BYU boys basketball. #9 in the polls, ya'll.

And I went to Philadelphia today and basked in the glory of Independence Hall and all sorts of history nerd stuff.

My roommates. Hanging on the fence by Benjamin Franklin's final resting place.

And I planted a mini chia pet that my mom gave me. My roommates made fun of me.

And I spent the entire 3-hour drive home from Philly singing at the top of my lungs to my favorite songs. And I don't even think that the other people in the car were annoyed.

AND I hung up my Justin Bieber poster.

My semester is looking up.

Yeah. This happened.

This week, in the DC, I had a little setback.

I had some wrist pain on Saturday... that increased exponentially until Monday morning when I could no longer move my wrist- or fingers- because of the pain. And I actually shed tears.

I went to the doctor and after two hours of waiting, explained my situation to the doctor:
"So, I don't know what happened... my wrist just started hurting. I didn't injure it. The only thing I can think of is that I moved and pulled some heavy suitcases all week last week. Oh, and I broke that wrist when I was 6. And, did I forget to say that it hurts like, really bad?"

The doctor was of very little help. The x-ray said nothing. After my 4-hour visit to the urgent-care clinic that I found online and found a ride to, the doctor sent me home with a brace, a prescription, and no information.

(sidenote: I hate taking medication. I feel like medicine (not antibiotics) doesn't actually make you better, it just makes you feel like you are better until you actually get better. And I don't like it when I feel fake better. I don't like not knowing what it's supposed to actually feel like. I know that's weird.)

So I got home and didn't fill my prescription. I iced my poor wrist, took some ibuprofen, and took a 2-hour nap.

The next day it hurt worse. I didn't sleep that night, you know, because it hurt so bad. And it was dang hard to get ready in the morning. Try putting a ponytail in your hair with one hand. Imagine me, Audrey, using one hand to put my nylons on for my first day of student teaching on Tuesday. Imagine my 5 whole minutes of agony. And then imagine going to some inner-city schools in Washington, D.C. and meeting intimidating administrators who give your broken wrist a firm handshake. Imagine holding in the scream.

It was a rough couple of days. I even called my brother and cried. Sobbed while walking down the street in Foggy Bottom after my first day. I sat on the metro with red puffy eyes and avoided looking at my fellow passengers.

What the heck is wrong with my wrist? What. the. heck. And besides the heck, what the RANDOM, right?

I gave up the no-prescription-medicine-charade on Wednesday afternoon. My happiness has increased dramatically since then. I slept last night. The whole night. No midnight trips to the bathroom for more painkillers or trips to the kitchen for ice bags.

Improvements of today:
1. I buttoned my pants this afternoon with apparent ease.
2. I carried something.
3. I cracked an egg. With both hands.
4. I slowly texted with both of my thumbs. 
5. I'm typing. Right now. With two hands (one in the brace of course)

Tomorrow my goal is to:
1. Apply lotion to my left arm (with my right hand)

So I'm in a positive, stabilized position at this time. But I think it's fake. My wrist feels better because I'm taking a strong pain killer and anti-inflammatory to stop the swelling (see picture below). So I guess I'll keep you updated on that.

Comparison of Audrey's wrists and hands. TOP: normal hand. Bottom: NOT NORMAL. Notice the two missing knuckles on the bottom hand due to swelling. And the lump on the left side of the wrist that is only slightly visible.

My experience in DC round 2 has been... a little rough at times. I am anxious to see how things turn out.

BTdub, I am still terrified of student teaching.

And there were like 5 large hiccups in my placement. Hopefully (and thankfully) they are overcome. It's been a little bit stressful to say the least. And I have been very, very sad, and very, very mad way too many times. I think I'm generally a fairly emotionless person, unless that emotion is happy, excited, or sincerely content but sleepy. It's been a ride. A wild ride. :)

But I love love love my roommates. They are Jetette Super Great. Aimee is my room-roommate. We have some great pillow talk, which I love. And all the girls support my ice cream addiction. Last night, when I was having such a hard time, my girls went down to the convenience store in the basement of our apartment building and bought me a pint of Red Velvet special edition ice cream, and then we sat in a circle and talked it all out.

Jackpot

One of my new roommates has the last two seasons of Boy Meets World on her computer. I don't know how or where she got them, because those seasons are not available on DVD. BUT, we have been watching season 6 the last couple of days. All 6 of us. We huddle up in our freezing apartment that still doesn't have furniture (hopefully Tuesday), and set up a computer and speakers on a chair so that the view is good for everyone. And see watch several episodes in a row. And with every on I proclaim, "OH! I love this one!!" And everyone is amazed that I know what episode it is just by the title.            

It's heavenly bliss.

Boy Meets World is one of those things that my family loves. We quote BMW more often than not. And watching the show here in VA is like getting a sweet taste of home. There's nothing like a dose of Eric Alison Matthews. Nothing.