Fire!

Yesterday morning I woke up, hoping to enjoy a quiet morning before leaving for chorus at noon. It was my last day of solitude before T got home from a trip and I had a few things I wanted to accomplish but mostly I wanted to enjoy having the house to myself for the whole morning.

Why then was I in the car, hurtling down the highway towards work just 20 minutes later? Because, while sitting on the couch, sipping my morning hot chocolate, I heard something on the morning news that struck terror into my heart - there was a fire in Carmel...on Lincoln & 6th - right where my office, housed in an historic 1902 cottage, is located.

I know I couldn't actually do anything if it really was my office on fire but there was just no way I could sit around all day wondering so I threw on some clothes (and some makeup - let's get real this *is* me we're talking about), put the hot chocolate in a travel mug, and headed for town.
20 minutes later I was just 2 blocks from the office when I saw this

which did not fill me with confidence about the state of my office. I can't explain why it bothered me so much. Partly, of course, it was because if the office burned down, the computer burned with it, which means all of our records would be lost. We're already teetering on the edge of going under, losing all our membership and financial data might just send us over the edge of the cliff which would mean I'm out of a job. But it's not just the loss of a paycheck. As I sped down the highway I realized that this organization is more than just a job to me. I care about what it does, what it stands for, the potential it possesses. I care about the people and would miss them if they were out of my life, even the ones that drive me freakin' crazy.

The fire department had blocked off all roads around my building so I couldn't get closer to the house than a couple of blocks. I parked and walked the rest of the way and was VERY relieved to see the source of all the excitement - the upper floor of the gallery across the street was burned out. My sweet little cottage was just fine, not touched at all. I let myself in the front door and said a silent prayer of thanks. I sometimes talk to the guy that built the house, he was 17 when he built it for his mother and sisters, so I talked to Mike Murphy and told him how great it was that "our" house was still standing. I think I would have grieved the loss of the cottage as much as the organization if my worst fears had been realized.

Then I turned around, found my car and got myself out of town - it *was* my day off after all!