I’m in Little Rock, AR visiting my college roommate and while it’s been fairly uneventful, there was one incident on my first night in town that must be documented here for the world to read (or at least my 5 er 4 loyal, faithful readers)
Jennifer and I were sitting in her living room discussing her apartment. It’s a good space, has a great footprint and sturdy bones, but let’s face it, it desperately needs a face lift and some TLC. Apparently there was an earthquake a while ago that jarred loose some ceiling tiles in most of the rooms, but her bedroom suffered the most damage.
So I casually ask if there have been any documented cases of ceiling tiles falling down and she laughingly says “Oh don’t be SILLY! I’ve lived here for 4 years and it’s never happened.” She actually had the nerve to LAUGH at me, like I was a lunatic for even suggesting the idea.
Um did you see that photo? Take a sec and look at it again. Do you think it’s such a crazy idea?
So that night, I crawl into bed and drift to sleep. Barely two hours later (mind you, I’d just driven 600 miles to get here) I feel something hard slam onto my leg and make the loudest bang possible. Meanwhile, Jennifer sleeps RIGHT through this even though she is less than 12 inches away from me. Not surprising considering this is the SAME woman who climbed down out of her top bunk bed and walked across a dorm room every nine minutes to hit the snooze alarm for two plus hours, every single day for the three years we were roommates.
Anyway, to make a really short story even longer, the ceiling tile that was never supposed to fall down, came crashing down on me in the middle of the night, mere hours after being assured it would never, ever in a million years happen. It actually landed on my leg.
No lie. Luckily, I’m used to strange and weird things happening in the night, so I kicked it across the room and fell back to sleep.
Needless to say, I’ve been sleeping in a Kevlar body suit for the past three nights.