Talking to Z about our roomiehood in Toronto reminded me of the gigantic fire that burned down the house/garage directly next to our apartment. Marlowe was over, and we were eating dinner and watching Lost or something on TV. I was just popping into my room to look for something during the commercial break when I saw something orange moving outside of my window.
The house next to us was up in flames. We went around to the emergency exit to take a look (stupid), and we couldn't even step outside because it was so hot. While Zane and I ran around panicking and trying to grab things, Marlowe calmly called 911 (who was already at the site, we realized when we went outside) and pulled the fire alarm in the apartment. We grabbed our stuff, knocked on everyone's doors, and left the building. There was a great hubbub outside with three or four fire trucks and a bunch of spectators. The street behind us, where the building was burning, was too narrow for the trucks to get to, so it took them till late in the evening to put out the fire. We stayed over at Marlowe's house for the night because our apartment was kind of smokey. Fortunately, our apartment was completely unaffected and the smokiness was all gone by the next day.
Anyway, a few days later we found out that the building was a grow-op, and indeed, there were a ton of planters discarded on the property.
Also, I drew myself with a backpack on, but in fact, I'd only taken my purse. Because I'm an idiot. I don't even think I took my passport with me . . . this is how well I cope with emergency situations.
Anywho. Found a CTV article on the Kensington fire. It's weird to think that this is already three years ago!