Sparks a-flyin!

So, yesterday I was bored out of my mind sitting calmly at my soon-to-be-ex-desk at work, and suddenly, I hear a series of small explosions. The other four women in the office screamed, and jumped up from their desks. Sparks had burst out of the ceiling - real sparks, with explosive noises - and then the really nasty smell of electrical burning.

We are unable to call 911 from our desk phones. We have one phone, in the back, that we can use to call 911 but nobody knew this until after we'd called from the nail salon next to us.

And then they arrived. The Firemen. And one firewoman, but she was not as cute as those FireMEN. Manly men. Men who climb ladders all the way to the top rung that the rest of us mere mortals are told to avoid. Men with tanks of oxygen strapped to their backs.

They poked around in the ceiling; they climbed on the roof; they sniffed, and pointed heat guns and did all the things firemen do, but could not pin a difinitive source on the sparks. We were given three things to get the management to check - and god love Management, they came out yesterday pretty promptly - and found that the old air conditioner on the roof had leaked so badly, the insulation got wet, fell, and landed on the electrical wiring. Voila: sparks.

And FIREMEN. Shiny! They are so much better looking than Policemen, and I don't know why that is.