Hey, remember that time the low battery warning on our carbon monoxide detector started frantically PEEPING in the middle of the night, and we couldn’t work out whether it was the friendly “Hey-diddly-ho, neighbour, my batteries are staring to run low, might want to think about replacing them soon!” warning, or the more ominous “OMFG, you are all going to die!” warning, so Terry just removed the batteries altogether and went back to sleep, while I lay awake all night waiting for death to come and claim me? And then I started writing really long, run-on sentences about carbon monoxide detectors all the time, and life was never the same again?
Well, it happened again.
* heavy sigh *
Once again we awoke to the frantic PEEP! of the alarm. Once again we went through the whole “Are we going to die? Is that the low battery warning? Where are the spare batteries? Did you use up all the spare batteries in your camera again, and forget to recharge them? Should we open a window? Hey, what time is it, anyway? Are we DEAD? Have you seen my sunglasses?” thing.
And once again, having tried every single battery in the house and been unable to stop the ear-splitting “PEEP! PEEP!” of the carbon monoxide detector, Terry simply removed the batteries altogether, and went back to sleep.
And I lay awake all night wondering if we were going to die.
You know what annoys me most about all of this, though? Other than the fear of certain death, obviously? Well, we’ve had that carbon monoxide detector for as long as we’ve had this house now. We’ve had this house for… longer than I want to think about, actually. And in all that time, the carbon monoxide detector has NEVER run out of batteries during the day-time, when we’d be in our right minds (Well, Terry would be in his right mind, anyway. I haven’t been in my right mind since… I haven’t ever been in my right mind.) and able to deal with it in a calm and measured fashion. NEVER. Not once. It has always, ALWAYS happened in the middle of the freaking night, and I swear I’m not exaggerating. This time.
Also, in all that time, we have NEVER learned to distinguish between the low-battery warning and the “DEATH! DEATH! INCOMING! DEATH!” warning. Never. (By “we”, I obviously mean “I” here, just before Terry gets all over my comments section protesting his innocence.) And that is because those two warnings? Are ONE AND THE SAME. I am sure of it. I HATE that freaking carbon monoxide detector. It’s obvious to me that the thing is just being an ass now. There are some inanimate objects that I love, and will carry in my heart forever. And there are some that are clearly EVIL, and are out to get me, and are probably possessed with the spirit of some old medieval witch, upon whose grave our house now stands, or something like that. Yes, carbon monoxide detector, I AM looking at you. (Radiator in the living room, I’m looking at you too.)
Can you tell I didn’t get much sleep last night? Can you?