Frazzled

The smoke detectors won’t stop beeping. I’m not talking about that annoying low battery chirp. Oh, no. I’m talking full out holy-shit-your-house-is-on-fire screeching. It started at 0627 and hasn’t stopped since then. All the smoke detectors are hard wired, have battery backup and are wireless so if one goes, they all fucking go.

I finally managed to get the four in the bedrooms and the one downstairs to stop, but the one in the upstairs hallway refuses to cooperate. It wails every thirty-forty minutes and sets off every other alarm in the house. I can’t find the manual to the damn things so I went online to the manufacturer’s website and it was completely useless. It doesn’t help that I’m 5’2" and the ceilings in the house are 10 plus feet depending on the room. Do we have a ladder? Nope.

I finally managed to climb up on the banister overlooking the staircase (we have one of those staircases that goes up, has a landing and then a second set of stairs to the upstairs hallway so from the banister it’s a 20 foot plus drop.) As I’m balancing precariously, beating the living crap out of the smoke detector and spewing a string of the vilest Russian, German, Spanish, and Arabic curse words I can manage, I realize that I’m probably going to kill myself. I’m either going to fall and break something or electrocute myself with the 110 volts running through the beeping bastard. Bosley seemed to share my worries. He paced nervously between the bedrooms and made anxious growling noises.

After ten minutes of messing with the detector, I realized that whoever installed the damn thing broke the battery release tab. When I touched it, it fell off in my hand. I can’t get the battery out. The wiring attached to the back looks a bit iffy as well. (I don’t have a lot of confidence in the wiring of the house. Just ask Dave about the ceiling fan with five wires. Our next door neighbor is an electrician and when Dave told him about the five wires he found, the guy was liek, what?!?!) I tried to pull the plug but it won’t budge. I can’t remove the battery or cut the power. Motherf$%&@!

Any other day I’d just put on my headphones and pretend the noise doesn’t exitst. Today, though, I have a low fever, a pounding headache, and am experiencing a variety of gastric pyrotechnics. Every second not spent cursing at the smoke detetors (Carajo! Scheisse! Yebnen Kelp! Kol ayre wle! Svoloch! Zarasa! Zavali Yebalo!) is spent worshipping the porcelain king. Bosley is just as bad. Strange noises agitate him. He hasn’t eaten all day and keeps going into the laundry room for peace and quiet. I’m embarassed to admit this but I’m locked in the laundry room too. It’s the only semi-quiet place. I’m about to crack.

Seriously, folks, I’m about five minutes away from throwing some clothes in a suitcase, coaxing Bosley into the truck, flipping all the breakers that carry power upstairs (since I don’t want the neighbors calling in to complain about the noise) and getting a room at the HoJo down the street.

OMG. Dave just called. He’s on his way home. I can’t tell you how relieved I am. I’m sobbing right now. In the laundry room. Sitting on the dryer. God, I’m pathetic.