I joined the fire department. It damn well feels like it, anyway. Okay, so my commitment isn't nearly as obvious as Kevin's, but I'm a grumpy bear this morning, puttering around after not enough sleep, wondering if he's alive or dead.
I know, I know. Don't be so fucking melodramatic, Sandra.
I was sitting in this very room, right here yesterday, when a call came in. Kevin had been outside, so all I heard was him run in for something off the table and the closing tones (which meant there was a call) and he was gone.
Not for all that long, though. Want to know what he was doing? You can read a bit about it. This is the call, and (Kevin's so pleased with himself) he got to land STARS. I've never directed in an emergency helicopter, so it sounds impressive.
We were in a dead sleep when the tones went off, just after 1 am. The radio being right by where my head was (we have a bookshelf headboard so Kevin always puts it there) I heard the call this time. Vehicle fire.
I remember thinking that shouldn't take that long to deal with.
Unless, of course, it was a trucker with gasoline or something.
So, this morning, it being after 8 am, still no word, I started checking the news to see if there was a report of the fire, which is when I found the report of yesterday's skydiving incident. Have I ever mentioned we live right by an airport where people skydive?
Usually, when the guys get called out, it isn't so pretty.
I guess that's me, back to wondering. I hate being a worry-wart, but it's hard not to. Anybody got a moment when they let unfounded fears get the better of them and felt like an idiot later? I could sure use a story like that.