Literally.
I was sitting in my soulless cubicle today working hard on Facebook when we received a cryptic announcement from the "Fire Safety Director" (how do I get his job?). Apparently the "smoky odor" in the building was being caused by a fire in the East Village.
But that's where I live! How interesting. So I called around (googled) and lo and behold the fire was less than a block from my apartment.
Apparently, the pizza place across the street somehow caught fire and it spread to the corner deli, causing extensive damage.
My beloved deli! Where, no matter how bad I look/feel, the owner never fails to boost my spirits with a wink and a smile. And where I've ended up countless nights post-debauchery, swaying in the snack aisle, trying to decide between Mint Milanos and Raspberry Tarts. I love you Stuyvesant Deli. Come back soon.
Photos from EVgrieve.com
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