Last month, I woke up to screams and smoke...lots of smoke.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYA8vqOsMNoXRTnT3NCck_ZO7Ggwn98J836mYhhP02SatIoogel1d_CjzslEBmdmFtVgrr9trJXMcZxXERaGhRu1hZPfWRLJK4ATqqwT6TCQGqhCDGC77-voFemsbldXhElKveeqRRjE/s320/fire.jpg)
There was a fire right below my apartment and the first thing I did when I saw smoke was run out the door as fast as I could.
"Oh my God, my brand new television."
This was the first thing I said to my roommate who looked at me with an incredulous look and said:
"Your life is worth more, Lauren."
And, to be honest, I remember thinking to myself -- "No, it isn't." I couldn't get my mind off the $4,000 electronic device I owned, even as I stood half naked outside my apartment building obsessing over it.
Now, I sit in the living room of my beautiful new apartment in West Hollywood in front of a lovely fireplace...with a different kind of fire. Television undamaged, happiness increased, a weight lifted off my shoulders.
"Lauren, you seem more comfortable in your skin and happier since the move" my stepmother told me over breakfast.
I smiled at her, not even noticing the change until that moment.
Perhaps a fire is just what I needed.
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