lsanderson | At the clack of dawn...

Thong driving, we wuz off to the oral surgeon somewhere in the wilds o' Richfield. Once again, the scare treatments for global anesthetic. Once again, I held out for local. It was not a pleasant experience, and I'm not convinced the anesthetic was quite enough, but the two wisdom teeth are now gone and I'm hiding at home with ice packs, narcotics, a stack of movies, and a stash of ice cream, yogurt, and cottage cheese.

Last night, staying up late because I figured it would not matter if I was tired at the dentist office, I watched TV to clear some things off the downstairs DVR. (It should talk to the other DVRs in the house, but I do not think that it does.) I thought I heard something, but it could have been the AC compressor turning on, anyway a few minutes later, sirens approached and a host of fire trucks converged to block the streets around 27th and Garfield. One came right up to the corner, and three more blocked the only access to the intersection. Hosts of firemen combed the intersection. People gathered on the sidewalks and got yelled at if they attempted to cross the intersection.

The put up the yellow "crime scene" tape -- which said something about "fire scene" and went into the next door house briefly. The one I asked about it didn't have much to say. A bunch of hispanics from the apartment building on the corner said there had been fire in the intersection earlier. One younger guy said the manhole cover was partially off. I took out the camcorder and recorded some tape, but eventually the firemen took down the tape and drove off into the night.