A couple nights ago, I woke up somewhere between 3 and 4am because the smoke detector was beeping. Not in a house-is-burning sort of way, but to presumably notify us that the batteries were dying. It beeped at 5 minute intervals in a loud, piercing manner, but then stopped, and I went back to sleep. We changed the batteries the next day, and all was well.
…Until 3am this morning, when it started again. I tried to go back to sleep while it beeped over and over, hoping it would give up like the last time. But it kept going, and when it finally woke Matt, he was willing to get up and take it off the ceiling. He’s just tall enough that he can reach it while perched precariously on one of our old folding chairs.
He removed the batteries, put it in the kitchen, and came back to bed. Five minutes later, there was the beeping again. That was the point where I started to think I was crazy, like those dreams where you’re unplugging the alarm clock to make it stop, and it still keeps going off. Even when you smash it to tiny bits, it’s still beeping at you. And then you wake up.
Anyway. Further investigation revealed two more smoke detectors within ten feet of the one in our room. There’s one in the hallway outside the bathroom, and one in the guest room. We determined that it was probably the hallway one, and took them both down. We now have three smoke detectors sitting on the dining room table, so hopefully nobody’s planning to burn down our house til we get home today.
In other news:
GODDAMMIT, I’m sick of winter. The last, well… many winters here have been less than terrible. This is what winter in Minnesota is supposed to be like, and it sucks a lot. I’m tired of layers of clothing and aching fingers and wet sneakers and scraping ice off my car.
We’re going to Jamaica in 41 days. I think I’ll start packing… now.