Fire Drill

I read a blog written by a guy named Dan that also likes Gilmore Girls and lives in Minneapolis, my former home. He recently wrote about the items he would rescue from his burning home. ATC breached a similar topic this evening, interviewing a Mississippi resident who couldn't save anything from her home (including her husband's journals, which he had written EVERY DAY since he was a child) before it was destroyed by the hurricane.

It's a topic I've thought about often, dating back to my dorm days in college - the fire alarm there was set off every other week or so, depending on when the rowdy kids decided to set the trash chutes ablaze. In those days, I'd grab my wallet and checkbook, put on a pair of jeans, socks, and shoes before leaving the room.

By the time I was in Minneapolis, the procedure became more complex. This was an apartment building that had honest-to-God fires, not just silly, nuisance pranks. Every time the fire alarm - and old-school, loud-as-hell bell - went off, I really had to rush outside.

I messed up the first time. I took my laptop, wallet, and because it was right in front of me, sitting on the coffee table, my autographed copy of Dave Eggers' You Shall Know Our Velocity.

By the next time the alarm rang, I had decided to save some photos, too. Laptop, wallet, my small photo album...and the autographed book. Hey, it's a good book.

I haven't thought about what to save since I moved into this house and surrounded myself with more possessions. Clearly, I don't have to save this piece of shit laptop anymore, because its new hard drive is blank. I guess I need to get one of those fireproof lockboxes, and throw all my backup disks in there. Do you get the feeling I'm just posting my to-do lists on the internet now? Do you get the feeling I should have saved this as a draft and not posted it? Do you ever wonder why you keep coming back to this website? Or any website? What are you looking for, anyway? Do you think I'm going to have something witty to say? Do you think I'm going to reveal something? Do you hate yourself? Do I hate myself? What am I doing with my life?

I guess I have to save the unique things. The autographed book is unique. My photos are unique - I have two albums now I need to save. There's an assload of notes from old girlfriends in a shoebox in my room, but I'm not going out of my way to save those, just like I'm not going out of my way to get rid of them.

Is that it? I own 3 things that can't be replaced?