So, I come home at 12:30 or thereabouts from working at
circehelene's, and walk into my apartment. Immediately upon opening the door I cannot help but notice an overpowering odor of gas. Hmm. I think, maybe my boyfriend, the strong and silent one, accidentally knocked the gas on. I flick on the lights (I have since been informed that this was a bad move;
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[edit] Anyhow, I just woke up, so my brain is slow. That must have really sucked, and you have my sympathies.
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It was...interesting, you know? And it was validating that I wasn't imagining things, there really was a gas leak.
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That was scary, but your experience is a step scarier.
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You know the dude--it's David. We got back together!
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When I started reading, I was kind of afraid that the ConEd guys were going to find someone attempting suicide, so I'm glad it was just a clueless person with a leak.
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I'm glad you and your loved ones are alive and safe, and as always, I hope I am as cool as you are in troubling, stressful, and potentially life-threatening situations like this.
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I'll say this for Con Ed: they came within ten minutes of me calling, and once I got them to understand that it wasn't my boyfriend's pot that I was smelling, they were dead serious about the whole situation (at one point when the woman next door was cavilling about letting them in, they said very matter-of-fact-ly that if she didn't, they'd be forced to call the fire department to gain access--they were not kidding about the situation at all).
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The gas leak...pfft. The baby wasn't in danger, so no big deal, you know?
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