Chicken Little

I swear, it's not about me, but since I arrived, two ceilings have fallen in. The first was at the place I'm staying in the East Village. There were men working on the roof in the morning, and when we got home from work, there was a piece of plaster and a lot of dirt on the floor, and a one by two foot hole in the ceiling. It didn't look too bad that night, but in the morning, we realized that we could actually see the sky.

The Lead Singer called the landlord, and it was taken care of within 36 hours. The patched area cracked as it dried, but it seems to be OK. Of course, they were back this morning, banging away, so who knows what's happened over the course of the day.

Then, on Wednesday, East Coast Guy came home from a concert to, well, nothing short of disaster. There'd been a fire in the apartment upstairs. Which was extinguished with water. A lot of water. How do we know, gentle reader, that it was a lot of water? Well you might ask. We know because the ceiling fell in, releasing the water into his apartment - over the bed, entertainment center and onto his beautiful rug from Morocco. There are not words for this. He took pictures, took necessities, and took himself to one of our favourite hotels.

And still came out for dinner with The Blue Fairy, The Painter, and various other artistic folk. We started with drinks here - note: when eating at a place named after a food item, be sure to order something involving said item - and ate here, because it's unique, we were in the neighbourhood, and there were people with dietary concerns. Cocktails and appetizers were very good, but I chose the wrong dessert. Always, always go with chocolate!