Smoke Alarm Hell

Last night, at 4 am, I was awakened out of a fussy, feverish sleep to hear a strange voice saying, "Mwa-mwa-mwom-mwa-mwa in KITCHEN!"

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

I knew it was our talking smoke/carbon monoxide alarm telling me to change an alarm battery or that that it was defective or that I should do the hokey-poky, so I rolled out of bed, ran up the stairs, and pulled a stepladder out of the closet. I was setting it up under the kitchen alarm (which I mounted to the ceiling) when Kathy said she could do it. I waved her away, climbed the stepladder, took the alarm off the bracket, and then...realized I was about to pass out.

Stumbling down from the stepladder, I landed hard on a kitchen chair and fumbled about, trying to open the battery compartment on alarm. I just couldn't manage it and handed it to Kathy, then slid to the floor to lean against the wall. (The chair was too high!) My skin, hair, and pajamas were all sweaty. My ears rang loudly and I thought I might throw up. 

Kathy moved around me nervously as I panted. I felt just awful. What the hell was I doing running up the stairs? I have the flu! Now I was faced with the incredible challenge of figuring out how to get back down the stairs to go to bed, and that seemed crazy hard. I certainly couldn't stand up. Finally I worked out a way to go down halfway on my bottom like an 18-month old might: boomp, boomp, boomp. I sorted crouched over and hung onto the railing for the rest of the way. Thank goodness, I made it back to bed.

This morning, Kathy said, "I know what happened. You woke up and heard the alarm and immediately launched into Super Alix mode. Only, when you were on top of the stepladder, your body realized it was only a battery that needed replacing, so it cut off the adrenaline."

I think she's right. After running a fever for three days, what was I thinking, anyway? That I was saving the day? Riiiiiight.

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