While in Austin...

Matt and I are at a hotel tonight. (It is closer to our appointment tomorrow.)  

It was 10:00 p.m., and Matt had just finished his shower.  As he was drying off, the fire alarm rang. Initially, I thought it was ringing because of the lingering hot-water-fog; we both stared at each other.  

Matt thinking, "Dang, I'm in big trouble now!"  

Me thinking, "I cannot believe we'll all have to evacuate because Matt takes too hot of a shower!"

I checked down the hallway and people were beginning to scurry out the exits; I could hear the alarm ringing in all rooms and the hallway.  Okay, maybe it wasn’t Matt’s fault.  Before I could enjoy my feeling of relief, I realized the alarm meant there was a FIRE!  Ducking back into the room, I yelled at Matt to get dressed as I gathered the important stuff--socks, soap, watches (yeah, well it seemed vital at the time!).  Looking back over at Matt, I saw that although he had vigorously dried his hair, he was struggling to pull his jeans on over his wet legs.  I convinced him to get downstairs with a harried look and a decisive, “Just GO!!”  After he hobbled out still trying to straighten is jeans, it dawned on me--I may have sent my one and only, wonderful, most precious son into an inferno! With horrific mother-visions, I wheeled around still clutching the hotel soap, scooped up Matt’s belt, and sprinted down the stairs to save him and his dignity.

Unfortunately, I was still wearing my reading glasses.  I “shaved off” too much of the final corner and smashed my face into the wall. 

Panting and a bit bloody, I slid sock-footed into the lobby yelling, “Matt, Matt, Matt!!!!”  There was no fire.  There was no smoke.  There were, however, all the firemen from the two large fire truck at the entrance.   Nope, I did not feel smart or brave.  Nope, nope, nope…

Got to bed about midnight.  Arranged all our things into manageable piles...just in case.  Matt wore his belted jeans to bed.