Sex in the city

It was a long late afternoon after work on Thursday that we had dedicated to food shopping. We went to the Korean Supermarket first. We hadn’t been there in months and bought such luxuries as curry mixes, kefir lime leaves and rambutan. Then we headed to the local little market closer to the apartment that still is grandfathered to sell wine with their food in this Puritanical state. Upon our return to the apartment we had a dozen bags to haul up to the fifth floor, and we used my former MIL’s carry basket on wheels which I store in the trunk of the car—we are now officially old people as a result of this.

We put all the good new food away and then decided to walk to the nearby Chinese restaurant for dinner even though astonishingly angry gray clouds were racing across the sky above. If you remember this is one of the best Chinese restaurants I have ever eaten in and it is in WALKING distance of where I now live. After our delicious meal (mine Ginger, chicken and scallions and hubby something really unhealthy and fried) we asked for a doggy box and carried the leftovers back to the apartment.

Upon approaching the building from across the parking lot we heard an alarm bell. When we reached the back door of the lobby the alarm was clearly a fire alarm and we saw about 20 people standing in the driveway outside the front door of the lobby. (We had seen two police cars parked there when we arrived to take up groceries earlier and ignored them.)

After talking to our apartment neighbors out the front, the result of all this activity was 1) a domestic dispute (thus the police cars) and 2) someone on the first floor baking bread and then burning it and setting off the fire alarm. The possible fire is a real issue among those who have lived here since last year, because an elderly couple died last year due to a fire in another building on this complex. Still, there are a lot more than 20 people that live in our building, so, some folks were willing to chance being fried, I guess.

It was an interesting watching my husband operate as we headed through the lobby and to the outside at the front of the building. My hubby immediately chatted up the two chickies that live on our floor. One a blue-eyed blonde from Ohio and one a Philipino Hawaiian from Hawaii. They are both law students at one of the nearby colleges and really sweet girls. He now knows at least 12 people that live in our building and I must admit that I know no one. I smile and chat briefly on the elevator, but never to the point of actually getting to know names and lives. Good thing I married him or I would be the loneliest person on the planet.

Anyway, all the tired, dirty and equipment laden firefighters from the TWO engines that showed up let us back in after about 30 minutes as they returned to the street—(No, not one of them looked like the guys on those calendars, and that was a disappointment on my part. God gives hubby the chickies and I get dumpy men and women in baggy gear.)

Living in the city is pretty interesting sometimes for some of us.