Last night I tossed and turned for hours and just as I’d drop back to sleep, I was made to open my eyes, being distracted by peeps of shrill high-pitched noise. I was unsure if I was awakened by something or if, in fact, I was dreaming. Yesterday morning I awoke thinking someone was ringing the front doorbell. I checked and was glad there was no one there. I recall thinking it was in my dream. But in the wee hours today, it wasn’t the doorbell that kept me from enjoying my night’s dreams, but that pesky smoke detector. Grating on my nerves much like fingernails scratched across a chalkboard.
By six ‘clock I gave up. I shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee and while cleaning the kitties bowls it happened again. It sounded so close! I walked into the foyer and looked up. One smoke and one carbon monoxide detector. I glanced by the back door and the glass-break detector was silent. Well, it would be wouldn’t it? I waited for a full five minutes. Nothing. I returned to the task at hand all the while being sung at by my merry band of felines. They harmonize beautifully, but when I am not fully awake it sounds a bit off.
Every time the detector alerted me intermittently I was not standing by. I decided to shower and while I was looking into the dryer for my jeans I heard it again. It’s upstairs I thought triumphantly! Two detectors there. One on the ceiling above the landing and the other perched on the ceiling at the top of the stairs, where the ceiling is much higher. I asked for Divine Guidance. Just as I was making my way downstairs, it sounded just above my head and a recorded voice spoke “Low Battery…” I spoke back but I won’t tell you what I said. Naturally it is the one perched way out of reach. My reach as well as a very tall person, like my husband. Even he would need a step stool or a ladder.
It’s a dangerous place to have installed a detector in the first place. I am certain and there is no way I am going to offer myself an avenue of toppling down the stairs. Perhaps I’ll phone the fire department and ask if one of their volunteers might swing by and switch out the batteries for me. Seems reasonable. Damsel in distress … Joe I miss you!