I was awakened at 2am by a firetruck siren outside. It was in the distance, became increasingly louder, and when the siren came close enough to sounding like it was next door, it stopped. This either meant that a) something was wrong next door, or b) the guy behind the wheel thought he was turning on the wipers but accidentally hit the siren switch and had just figured out how to turn it off as he was driving by. I asked myself "Does it smell like something is burning?" No. "Is this a dream?" No. "Are people screaming or are there any fire alarms going off?" No.
It was then that I decided that there was no fire - but instead, a cute, cuddly stray kitten must have somehow gotten himself trapped high up in a tree, and an elite team of Minnesota's finest fire fighters were called out to rescue the little bugger and return him safely to ground level.
Thinking like that makes it much easier for my lazy ass to get to back to sleep and not worry so much about possibly waking up 15 minutes later because my flesh is being burned off in a bedroom where the carpet and furniture were just engulfed in a forest of smoke and 6' tall flames.
Good times, good times!
