I ran upstairs yesterday, mid-cat chase, and stopped fast in my tracks when I heard a noise that chilled me to the bone. I froze for a minute to see if I could hear it again. Yep, there it was.
What the hell? I stood motionless in the hallway as I tried to decipher what the noise was. I put on my thinking cap and finally figured out it was the smoke detector--the batteries were probably dying. I stood below it, staring up at it for a good minute and a half, waiting to hear it again to confirm.
But it wasn't the one above my head. Where... was the noise coming from? I walked into our bedroom and noticed there was another smoke detector in there. Ah, that must be it. I stood directly below it, staring dumbly up at it for another minute and a half, waiting for the beep.
Nope, not this one either. How many damn smoke detectors do we HAVE in this house?
I walked into the office and noted that we have another in that room. I stared blankly, straining my neck, waiting for the beep... nope, not it.
Four. That's how many smoke detectors we have upstairs. Four. And naturally, it was the last one I checked, in the guest room, that was making the beeping noise.
I silently cursed K for not being home at this particular moment, as I could have used both his height and vast knowledge of smoke detector anatomy to help me. Instead, I rolled up my sleeves, dragged a heavy chair to the guest room where the annoying beeping was coming from, and started trying to twist it off of the ceiling. When I finally got it undone, there were wires connecting it to the ceiling. I felt like Keanu Reeves in Speed. Which one do I PULL? Will the house blow up? I started to sweat.
I pulled the wires with no dire consequences, and set the smoke detector on the nightstand, proud of myself. I dragged the chair back to its original location and began to walk back downstairs.
You have got to be KIDDING ME. WTF? It's like when you cut a worm in half and both halves still wiggle. I stomped up the stairs and stared at the smoke detector on the table in concern and amazement.
Holy crap. I picked it up, turned it around to see if there were directions on it. It must still be the battery. I finally found the side compartment where the battery was located, and I pulled that motha out. I layed the dissected smoke detector and its innards on the table and stood, hands on hips, in triumph. I dared it to beep again.
It didn't. I think I managed to beat the smoke detector in this battle of wits. And though I could have used K's height and ninja skills, I walked away proud that I was able to do it myself. The moral of the story is: you have to be smarter than the smoke detector.