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I spent the afternoon and evening watching tv and keeping my ankle and my elbow RICEd as much as possible. Which occasionally was not possible due to: 1) fighting cats 2) back pain from lying too long on the couch and 3) alarming smoke alarms. Long about 11:30 or so, when the cat fighting had simmered down, and right in a crucial scene from Generation Kill that had me all tense and worried, the smoke alarm 8 feet from my head went off, resulting in ear shattering pain and Blues leaping from the back of the couch to my stomach before taking off through the rest of the house to complete his terror steeplechase. Oof.
The bedroom alarm quickly went off, as well, although I didn't realize it. I got up as quickly as I could (read: not quickly) gimping over to take out the battery in my very old hallway alarm, thinking that was the one that went off, before realizing it was the living room one that was shrieking its horrible sound at me. I hit the button designed to, as they say on the front of the casing, "hush" it, and then took the battery out, figuring it must be dying. About 30 minutes later, though, it went off again, this time in short Morse code-like bursts.
Now, I can't straighten my left arm at all, and I can't really stand on tiptoes to get at the alarm with ease, but I tried to read the instructions on the front and "hush" it, to no avail. I can reach the alarm just standing since I'm so tall, but I couldn't do much with ease because of the injuries. Realizing that it insisted on screaming at me with or without the battery, I put a slightly fresher one in, since I don't have any new 9-volts lying around and I can't exactly get in the car to find one. As I finish watching Generation Kill, the alarm continues to randomly and sporadically go off, sometimes involving the bedroom one as well, because they are all hardwired together (the living room, bedroom, and office room ones). Each time, the cats run in terror, and then Blues takes out his distress on Olive by pouncing on her, and she is happy to take out her distress on him, and he chases her around until she hides under the bed and belts him one.
Two things about this absurd scenario: When I did the remodel, the city wouldn't sign off on the final inspection until they'd installed smoke alarms in the living room and two bedrooms. I pointed out that it's a very small house, but that didn't matter. Even the old hallway one wouldn't mollify them, and they insisted on putting it right above my head in the bedroom, so there's this beacon-bright green light shining right into my eyes as I try to sleep. I taped a piece of black Post-It note on it to cover it up. But I noticed that underneath, it blinked green and red, as did the living room one occasionally. The other thing is that the electrician mentioned they had to use ones you couldn't disable, the way I do with the old hallway one, just by taking the battery out.
So I took some Percocet after thinking I finally had it under control, about 12:30, and went to bed. It took me at least an hour to fall asleep, because every position made something hurt. About 4 a.m. the shrieking started, launching Olive off my side like a SCUD missile. And it went all Doppler effect on me, with the living room and the bedroom taking turns in a kind of roundelay echo effect. I kept hitting the reset buttons, took out the battery, each time hobbling out of bed and trying to get my left arm in some kind of position to help my right arm, and I was also kind of drugged, so it made walking even harder. My feet felt like they were sticking to the floor and that made the walking worse. The cats are running around in sheer terror, because this is all VERY LOUD SUDDEN NOISE and they don't know where it's coming from and the sky is falling oh noes!
Finally after over a half hour of this crap, I lose patience and start hitting the living room alarm violently (well, as violently as a one-armed, dodgy-ankled tall person can who's befuddled by Percocet and lack of sleep and pain can). I twisted it a few times, hit it some more, and it popped off. I was stunned! I just hoped to break it, since Jackass Electrician Guy had said they couldn't be removed. Peace at last!
As I lay down, I heard one last set of blips, as if the living room one was not going to go gently into that good night, no sir. Started to fall asleep again when SHRIEK SHRIEK SHRIEK of the bedroom one right in my face, and what sounds like the office one going off in solidarity with its brethren. I hobble out of bed, twisting my bad ankle on the sheet, and starting whanging on the alarm, but this one doesn't want to go quietly. Finally I pull it off, and go pull off the office one, and take the batteries out and throw them on the desk. As I get back into bed, I see by the clock that it's 7 freaking a.m. My ankle is killing me, my arm hurts really bad, and I am so, so tired. Then there is another blip, because these alarms are determined to fuck my shit up. I bundle all of them together and throw them in a cupboard in the kitchen. At last, peace.
Olive finally comes back to bed with me right before I need to get up. All night I've thought about my poor sister in her last hours, because about three nights before she died, the carbon monoxide detector battery had gone out and it started shrieking in the middle of the night. The woman who was taking care of her, T, couldn't figure out how to get the cover off to take the battery out; I had had one of those things, too, and I knew just what a bitch they were to deal with. I'd gotten rid of mine for just that reason -- and because they are even louder than any smoke alarm on the market. It's like "Your agonizer, Ms. R!" having this thing blaring in your face while trying to figure out how to get the cover off, and it takes forever to get that damn thing off. Anyway, T couldn't get it fixed, so she threw it against a wall, which didn't help, and she stomped on it, which didn't help. My sister was sobbing in the bedroom because the noise hurt her, and so T finally wrapped it up in a bunch of towels and took it out to the car in the garage and threw it in there. It was still blaring when I got to San Diego a day and a half later.
The bedroom alarm quickly went off, as well, although I didn't realize it. I got up as quickly as I could (read: not quickly) gimping over to take out the battery in my very old hallway alarm, thinking that was the one that went off, before realizing it was the living room one that was shrieking its horrible sound at me. I hit the button designed to, as they say on the front of the casing, "hush" it, and then took the battery out, figuring it must be dying. About 30 minutes later, though, it went off again, this time in short Morse code-like bursts.
Now, I can't straighten my left arm at all, and I can't really stand on tiptoes to get at the alarm with ease, but I tried to read the instructions on the front and "hush" it, to no avail. I can reach the alarm just standing since I'm so tall, but I couldn't do much with ease because of the injuries. Realizing that it insisted on screaming at me with or without the battery, I put a slightly fresher one in, since I don't have any new 9-volts lying around and I can't exactly get in the car to find one. As I finish watching Generation Kill, the alarm continues to randomly and sporadically go off, sometimes involving the bedroom one as well, because they are all hardwired together (the living room, bedroom, and office room ones). Each time, the cats run in terror, and then Blues takes out his distress on Olive by pouncing on her, and she is happy to take out her distress on him, and he chases her around until she hides under the bed and belts him one.
Two things about this absurd scenario: When I did the remodel, the city wouldn't sign off on the final inspection until they'd installed smoke alarms in the living room and two bedrooms. I pointed out that it's a very small house, but that didn't matter. Even the old hallway one wouldn't mollify them, and they insisted on putting it right above my head in the bedroom, so there's this beacon-bright green light shining right into my eyes as I try to sleep. I taped a piece of black Post-It note on it to cover it up. But I noticed that underneath, it blinked green and red, as did the living room one occasionally. The other thing is that the electrician mentioned they had to use ones you couldn't disable, the way I do with the old hallway one, just by taking the battery out.
So I took some Percocet after thinking I finally had it under control, about 12:30, and went to bed. It took me at least an hour to fall asleep, because every position made something hurt. About 4 a.m. the shrieking started, launching Olive off my side like a SCUD missile. And it went all Doppler effect on me, with the living room and the bedroom taking turns in a kind of roundelay echo effect. I kept hitting the reset buttons, took out the battery, each time hobbling out of bed and trying to get my left arm in some kind of position to help my right arm, and I was also kind of drugged, so it made walking even harder. My feet felt like they were sticking to the floor and that made the walking worse. The cats are running around in sheer terror, because this is all VERY LOUD SUDDEN NOISE and they don't know where it's coming from and the sky is falling oh noes!
Finally after over a half hour of this crap, I lose patience and start hitting the living room alarm violently (well, as violently as a one-armed, dodgy-ankled tall person can who's befuddled by Percocet and lack of sleep and pain can). I twisted it a few times, hit it some more, and it popped off. I was stunned! I just hoped to break it, since Jackass Electrician Guy had said they couldn't be removed. Peace at last!
As I lay down, I heard one last set of blips, as if the living room one was not going to go gently into that good night, no sir. Started to fall asleep again when SHRIEK SHRIEK SHRIEK of the bedroom one right in my face, and what sounds like the office one going off in solidarity with its brethren. I hobble out of bed, twisting my bad ankle on the sheet, and starting whanging on the alarm, but this one doesn't want to go quietly. Finally I pull it off, and go pull off the office one, and take the batteries out and throw them on the desk. As I get back into bed, I see by the clock that it's 7 freaking a.m. My ankle is killing me, my arm hurts really bad, and I am so, so tired. Then there is another blip, because these alarms are determined to fuck my shit up. I bundle all of them together and throw them in a cupboard in the kitchen. At last, peace.
Olive finally comes back to bed with me right before I need to get up. All night I've thought about my poor sister in her last hours, because about three nights before she died, the carbon monoxide detector battery had gone out and it started shrieking in the middle of the night. The woman who was taking care of her, T, couldn't figure out how to get the cover off to take the battery out; I had had one of those things, too, and I knew just what a bitch they were to deal with. I'd gotten rid of mine for just that reason -- and because they are even louder than any smoke alarm on the market. It's like "Your agonizer, Ms. R!" having this thing blaring in your face while trying to figure out how to get the cover off, and it takes forever to get that damn thing off. Anyway, T couldn't get it fixed, so she threw it against a wall, which didn't help, and she stomped on it, which didn't help. My sister was sobbing in the bedroom because the noise hurt her, and so T finally wrapped it up in a bunch of towels and took it out to the car in the garage and threw it in there. It was still blaring when I got to San Diego a day and a half later.
