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at the point I wrote that first post I was sleeping on a neighbor's couch. He has a studio apartment and 2 large cats.

He'd put his cats in his bathroom at night, Fred would run free and keep us both awake jumping on our heads at night. In the morning his cats would come out and Fred would go in the cat carrier for the day.

I couldn't go to the bathroom when the cats were in there because they hiss at me, so I would go to the health club, but it closes at 9pm. So no peeing after 9pm.

The insurance company was not available on Monday because it was Yom Kippur. When I reached them on Tuesday morning they passed me around to voicemail and when finally they spoke to me they told me to sleep at a friend's house and that they couldn't get their adjuster out to see the damage until Thursday. They told me I couldn't take a rental place because they hoped that maybe I would be back in my apartment in a couple days.

This was all completely outrageous and incorrect.

Meanwhile, I saw an apartment that- like a miracle from heaven - was perfect and exactly comparable to mine, in the same building and even furnished. I was going to take it even if I had to pay for it myself because I had no where to live- but the real estate agents were insane, telling me one moment I could have it, and the next that I couldn't.

Everything was on my cell phone, which rang incessantly.

The fire happened on Monday around lunch time when I went out to buy a loaf of bread. I came home and went to the manager's office to read the building's board minutes. We heard the fire engines but that's normal in NYC and normal in my building. But so many, and so loud and we came out to the front desk to find the lobby full of firefighters, so many, I haven't seen that many since 9/11 on TV.

The block was ringed with fire engines.

We listened on the staff's walkie talkies as they said the fire was in the University tower... and then they said it was the Park Tower (my tower) and they they were yelling- it's Rachel Corey's apartment, it's Rachel Corey's apartment.

I was sure they were joking. It couldn't be my apartment. I am Little Miss Safety. I'm the one who made them paint the stairwells with day glo paint in case of emergencies, I'm the one who works with the FDNY, I'm the one in the manger's office reading the board minutes, they must be joking. I had JUST gone through all my stereo equipment to reconnect my VCR to the TiVo.

I went out to the front of the building, fire engines filled the street and looked up and saw the smoke pouring out from my balcony.

It didn't occur to me until later that the staff was screaming that it was my apartment because they were afraid I was trapped inside.

They nearly risked their lives to save me.

There were hundreds of firefighters because this was classified as a "high rise fire" just like the World Trade Center. Ladder 20, which normally would never be called to my home was there.

I went to the firefighters I found outside, told them it was my unit and offered whatever information I could. They only wanted to know if anyone was in my apartment.

I told them- just Fred the kitten.

They said, let us get the fire under control, then we will look for the kitten.

Shortly thereafter, they radioed the fire was contained, then it was out, then they found Fred.

At 415pm I went to see my home.

There were about 50 firefighters in the hall in front of my door. I just wanted to see every one of those men leave safely.

They all did. No one was hurt.

The FDNY had done minimal damage, even moved my guitars out of the way safely. There was about 6 inches of water, which damaged apartments for 8 floors below mine. There was broken glass everywhere and everything was black. The wind was blowing my papers out the windows.

I was apologizing to everyone, and everyone was telling me it wasn't my fault. I thought fires only happened to stupid people who were careless. I only calmed down about that when one of the guys from Ladder 20 told me he had had fires at his house too.

Then it got worse.

I saw your instant message and it warmed my heart. I knew I had friends and I knew I had places to go, I had to stay close to my apartment to defend it, I had to find another place to stay, I had this other apartment and these psychopathic real estate agents calling me every half hour and dangling the apartment in front of me. I saw there was abed- a BED for God's sake - and I could not go sleep in it.

The insurance agent was playing games with me, they kitten was in distress, I was trying to figure out what to do, the insurance people were saying I should not move anything out of my apartment, people were showing up to do work in the apartment, and I am trying to handle all of this from one cell phone.

One of the people who showed up was a creature I had never heard of before- an insurance adjuster who represents the insured sort of against their own insurance company. He had come to help the building against their insurance company and when I let him in to my place he let me know how i was being abused. I had a right to stay in a "comparable" hotel, to be restored immediately to the kind of life i had before the fire. I still have to figure out when I got into the hotel, but I finally did. Then we had to duke it out with the real estate people and the insurance company.