Yeah, it's been one of those days -- really great, but listing about five degrees towards crazy.
This morning, we got to do some of the stuff that made me want to be a firefighter. The police department responded on a welfare check at a residence. The resident's grandson hadn't talked to her in three days, the phone was off the hook and although her cars were in the garage, she wouldn't answer the door. The cops called us to make forcible entry into the home.
From the back story, the outlook was sort of grim. Going into the deal, I would have put money on 70% odd of finding a deceased victim inside, 20% odds on her not being home at all and 10% on her being there. As it turns out, I would have lost money. We broke out a window in the garage door and shoved our smallest guy through. The door to the house from the garage was also locked and so we had to remove it from its hinges. As we were doing that, we heard the woman call for help from the inside. We're not exactly sure how long she'd been down... but it's possible that she was there for much of the three days. I love happy endings.
If I suddenly stop posting, it could be because of a massive brain hemorrhage. At lunch today, I complained of a headache to the other guys on my company. One of them asked, "is it where you hit your head?" I didn't know what he was talking about. He says that I banged my head on a cabinet while we were doing some cleaning before lunch. I have absolutely NO recollection of that event at all. Scary, eh?
As to the quote... A female member of the administrative staff stained her white pants at work today. One of the guys on my company offered to let her wear a pair of uniform pants while hers were being cleaned. The sexually suggestive rumors about this girl have been known to float about at times, she likes to flaunt the body parts that God (or, perhaps, surgery) has given her and she usually wears the sweetest smelling perfume around. Once her pants were clean, she returned the uniform pants to my buddy completely infused with her scent. Various jokes -- many of which shouldn't be repeated -- have continued since. Such is life at the firehouse. I don't think I'd trade it for anywhere. Of course, I'm going to test that theory this weekend. Due to a trade, I'm leaving at 7 a.m. Thursday, returning at 7 a.m. Friday and pulling a 48 -- that gives me 72 of 96 hours at work.