The shrill voice of the alarm rang. It went on emitting ear splitting sounds. All because I had put a little oil into the frying pan. The oil started to sizzle, and I had forgotten to switch off the heat.
I rushed first to remove the pan from heat, turned on the exhaust, and ran to the balcony doors to let fresh air in. I was furious with myself as to how could I had committed the crime of forgetfulness?
Son had cautioned me earlier as not to open our front door in case of any mishap. He was home, so he judiciously reminded me again, while sitting on a sofa, and calmly watching me run towards the balcony doors.
There had been an unfortunate incident which had happened to a couple living in the same building as us. The wife opened the front door, and the whole apartment was deluged with water from the sprinklers. Their belongings were ruined, and they had no insurance.
The strict instructions from the management are: that when the fire alarm is activated, the front door shouldn’t be opened, otherwise the next set of alarms in the corridor turns on the water sprinklers.
The fire alarm rang on continuously. It wouldn’t stop, making me wonder whether it would continue screeching for the whole night. I waved a towel at it, hoping it might have a quietening effect. It was a futile effort. My ears were getting damaged. I moved away, and waited. Finally it stopped.
I’m a careful person, and still it happened. I hope it never happens again.
Yesterday in the evening Son, IB (grandson), and I went with a realtor to look at some houses. In one home when I looked at the ceiling, I saw evidence of a leaking roof. I drew the realtor’s attention towards the spots. It turned out the painters had done substandard work. The painters had put a lighter color over the previous darker one, and it give the appearance of leakages.
Some of the houses were old, constructed in the early eightees. Two houses were devoid of ceiling fans. Some didn’t have sprinkles outside. Whereas some had the fixtures for washers, and dryers in the garages which does make life more difficult to live. It appeared we will have to make major purchases if we decided on one of them. One , or two had power lines passing through the back yards.
IB would skip to the room, nearest to his dad’s master bedroom, and would claim it as his own, relegating me to the guestroom in every house we went to. He is currently living with us. Son’s ex is out of the country at the moment, leaving IB with Son.
IB is a total delight. I was trying to write while he distracted me by showing a magic trick with cards, and I lost my concentration. He has many card tricks up his sleeve, and would like nothing better than to teach me these tricks. He keeps insisting that I should learn them. I enjoy his company. I asked him why doesn’t he continue to stay with us once his mom comes back? I was amazed at his reply (impressed really).
I can’t. H (his older brother) will miss me. He should enter the diplomatic service once he grows up.
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