Sorry. I couldn’t help it. The devil made me do it. If you are offended at adult subject matter, you may want to move along. Come back tomorrow when our regularily scheduled program is back.
Why, do you ask am I swearing under my breath – and out loud – and possibly louder than this house has been rated? It’s my SIL’s fault. (No, it really isn’t. I just wanted to see if he was listening… )
A year ago we decided we’d be responsible homeowners and learn to change the batteries in our smoke detectors. You must understand, we may be a bit paranoid, but we have a lot of smoke detectors. (Remember, my parents’ house burned to the ground – and that was after we built this house!) We have seven, to be exact. Seven smoke detectors that are hardwired into the house electric and have battery backups.
A year ago my lovely (and very tall) SIL (the newest one) got put to work replacing batteries in smoke detectors. He’s a sweetheart and would never argue with his MIL (me) so when he is asked to put that extra height to work, he naturally volunteers. At some point along the way we discovered that either not all the ‘new’ batteries were as ‘new’ as they should have been, or, now that I’ve read the instructions for the 15th time, maybe they weren’t exactly the ones they wanted us to put in them.
For some reason, not all of them have a battery back up, either. I’ve not figured that out. I was just sure they were all supposed to have a battery back up, but if SIL can’t find it and he’s an engineer, by God, they must not have a battery. I trust him. He wouldn’t lie to me.
About a month ago, in the middle of the night, I swear the smoke detector alarm went off. Once. Just once it sounded it’s blaring electronic ‘wake the fuck up’ sound. I sat straight up in bed (because, of course, there is one of these detectors not more than ten feet from my head on the ceiling of my bedroom!). I looked over at Hubby, and he hadn’t moved a muscle. He was still snoring, the pups weren’t barking, the house was quiet. I must be going crazy! I decided I must have been dreaming.
Until Sunday morning…right about 3 a.m.
The fucking alarm went off again. Four beeps. Screaming, serious ‘didn’t you hear me say wake up?’ beeping. Silence. Then, it goes off again!!!!! OMG! I can’t believe this is happening! I race all over the house, making sure there really was no fire or smoke. The alarm beeps four time, goes silent, and never. beeps. again.
I’m thinking on Sunday, ‘ I really should try and check those smoke detectors‘. I even call SIL to see if he remembers which ones had batteries since I’d have to hike my butt up higher than my butt is supposed to be off the ground to change them. Unfortunately, he didn’t remember. I forget about it. Bad move. Yep,you know it…
This morning. 3:30 a.m. … BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!BEEP! … this is not the little chirping cricket that tells you the battery is going dead. This is the “YOU IGNORED ME THE FIRST TWO TIMES, BITCH, NOW YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME!” Oh, God in heaven…! This time, we listened to it repeat six times. I thought about throwing the circut breaker, just to shut it up… but then we realized we’d have to listen to the cricket the rest of the night.
It stops. I lay back down. Fifteen minutes later… BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!…. FUCK!FUCK!FUCK!FUCK! Hubby looks at me and says, “I could sleep through the beeping, but every time you launch out of bed you scare the shit out of me!”
I climbed up my ladder tonight after work. I think I found the one old battery. I replace it. I guess we’ll find out, oh… about 4 a.m. tomorrow morning…