I posted this ages ago.
It was a Saturday night and my microwave caught fire. My smoke detectors went off and neighbours called the fire brigade. The fire was trivial. I was en femme, and not as out as I am now. A full team of fire fighters in the house. I had to sit with the chief of the crew, sign off on insurance etc using my male identity, feeling absolutely terrible, ashamed (why?). They were very nice and professional.
Next morning, Sunday, I was woken by a fire truck outside the house. I was in my nightie, makeup (left over, and looking like a dog. The fire crew had bought me a bunch of flowers.
Love them to pieces for that.
Cindy