Conversations with my father.

On the night of the non-existent fire:

Me: Hi, Dad. My building's on fire.

Dad: Are you burned?

Me: No.

Dad: What's on fire?

Me: I don't know. The firemen are looking now.

Dad: How can you not know if your apartment's on fire?

Me: I said my building.

Dad: You said your apartment.

Me: I said my building.

Dad: Apartment.

Me: Building.

Dad: You said apartment.

Me: Daddy! I am not going to argue with you while there are firemen in front of me and my apartment may be burning up, along with all my stuff and AND I do not have renter's insurance.

Dad: Fine. You said your apartment.

Me: I'll call you when this is done.

Dad: Bye.

Crazy? Just a little bit, please.