A friend of mine rang last me last week while I was at work, and I was happily talking away when an ominous voice rang out of the ceiling: “This is a test of the automated fire alarm system. This is only a drill.” I attempted to ignore it and kept talking, but I knew my time was up. Indeed, the whooping and wailing of the fire drill seemed to be coming from directly above me … ah, there’s a speaker right over my desk. Excellent. My friend found this enormously funny and although I could hardly hear him, I think he was exhorting me to flee the building lest I meet a fiery death. I told him I’d ring him back, hung up, and forgot all about it. I’m good like that.
He rang again yesterday, to check I wasn’t consumed in flames. I wasn’t, of course, just extremely lazy. Then while we were talking, he mentioned the low-level drone he could hear in the background… oh yeah, that’s all the industrial fans running out in the stairwell. The third floor bathrooms flooded over the weekend, and overflowed down into the second floor bathrooms and then the first floor bathrooms. Typically, he found this extremely funny. Let’s see how funny it is when he has to climb several flights of stairs to use the only bathroom left, which is now as busy as Flinders Street Station (and slightly hotter and worse-smelling).
So that’s earthquakes, fire (drills) and floods in the past two weeks. THE WORLD IS ENDING. Or, to be fair, THE PART OF THE WORLD DIRECTLY SURROUNDING ME is ending. Hey, maybe I should move. Closer to YOU.