What's a Saturday night without noxious fumes? We had our share this evening and our tiny apartment still features a suffocating aroma reminiscent of shrinky dinks. Despite the fun I had as a kid with those wobbly plastic cut-outs I still begrudge our apartment being filled with anything that makes my eyes burn.
Apparently all is well down below at the source of the smoke -- from above it seemed to be coming from the loading dock area. The firefighters weren't running around and the smoke detectors/alarm intercom didn't go off, so we opted to stay up here and keep an eye on conditions. Yes Mom, we put on our shoes and were quite ready to flee should we have needed to. Also, Stefano was very bright and immediately used a towel to block the gap between the front door and the floor.
Luckily, Home Alone -- a classic filmed in the Northern suburbs of Illinois that includes a scene in front of the chapel in which we were married -- is on the UPN. So we've decided to sit in the fumes and enjoy some stellar filmmaking although I for one heartily blame the fumes for this positive reaction to Home Alone.
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