Monday afternoon, we had a fire drill at work. The first clues were the siren and the intercom announcement “Attention. Attention. An emergency has been reported.”

We calmly filed out of our offices into the hallway. That’s where the gridlock begins. Out in the hallway is where everyone is, heading for the stairwells (two of them). In my years at my agency, I’ve been housed in three buildings and on various floors on each of those buildings. Now I am on the 5th floor. And that means that when we leave our office for a fire drill, we get in line for the stairs. And we wait. And wait. I’m sure we’d all be moving faster in a real emergency, but that still leaves me on the 5th floor.

After my first 5th-floor fire drill, I started planning alternate evacuation routes, all having to do with the tiny window in my cubicle. First on my list was one of those fold-out rope ladders. After my second fire drill, my idea was to buy some sheets and tie them together, for the climb down.

But Monday, while we were in our assigned meeting place a safe distance away from the building, I noticed there is a tree under my window. It’s a small tree — now — but I wonder how long it would take it to grow to the 5th-floor level with a hefty dose of Miracle Grow.

Too small?

I even have a back-up plan to my back-up plan. I’ll throw all my technical manuals out the window, creating a mound that I can use to scamper down. Although, throwing that many manuals out the window may take quite a while. If I start before there is an emergency, someone will find them and return them to me. That would be a never-ending effort to get the mound built up to the right height just at the right time. Okay, that plan is out.

Now, all I need is to figure out how to get a work order submitted to widen the 50-year-old window in my cubicle. It sure wasn’t made for an evacuation route.

I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure that when I’m in an antique store and turn over a dish to look at the bottom and discover that it is “dishwasher, freezer and microwave safe,” it is not an antique. It may not even fall into the category of “old.”

I make my bed every morning. Except yesterday morning. I didn’t remember not making my bed and so I was startled when I came home from work and saw the bed unmade. The same dogs that I can’t teach to sweep or vacuum do not make beds, so there it was, waiting for me.

I looked at it and then looked at the clock. In about three hours I’d be going to bed.

Make the bed or leave it? I made the bed. I’ll sleep better for having done that.