The saga of the home alarm system continues. I’ll skip all the boring stuff about how only half of it is working now and how we’re waiting for a new system to get installed next week.
I’ll skip to how awesome and inventive I am–always a favorite topic of mine!
After paying $200 for a service call last week to turn off the malfunctioning parts of the system– hoping to avoid shrieking sirens that send me right to the roof and keep me from sleeping for the rest of the night–last night I heard an errant smoke detector that beeped for 5 seconds or so–but not at any type of regular interval. When I called about 10:30, Garth told me that I could just take the batteries out. This would be fine, except that the smoke detector in question is located over the stairs about 12 feet up–and I am afraid of heights to the nth degree and Dixon is not allowed on ladders right now, what with his broken femur and all. Garth offered to come over and disable it for a $200 minimum fee, but I couldn’t justify that–as much as I love my sleep.
So I went to bed hoping that it wouldn’t beep so often that it kept me awake. What’s that bit about hope springing eternal?
When I was awakened again at 4:45 this morning, I lay in bed thinking. Thinking about how it was 4 more nights until they came to install the new system and could take down the old one. Thinking about how much I think Garth should have taken the old one down when he was there last week. Thinking about how if I were on a space station and my life depended on disabling that smoke detector, I would figure out a way to do it.
I lay there thinking for another half hour, thinking about all the materials in our house. I thought about using a fishing pole and trying to lassoo the smoke detector. I thought about throwing shoes at it and trying to knock it down. I momentarily wished I owned a gun so that I could shoot it down from the ceiling. I wondered if I had the guts and the strength to get a ladder upstairs and climb up and take it down. I didn’t think I did. I thought about how it had to be unscrewed slightly to get it down. And then I had my brilliant idea.
I climbed out of bed leaving Dixon sleeping. I found an 8 foot piece of sturdy trim that was in the closet. I also found the toilet pluger. I got the duct tape and taped the plunger firmly to the trim. I stood underneath the evil smoke detector and raised my Ebeneezer! I turned it lefty Lucy; it worked. I was more happy than any person has a right to be.
In case you’re worrying, I bought two smoke detectors to get us through until the new ones are installed. I used my plunger skills to affix them to the ceiling with two-sided tape. They won’t stay up there forever–but on the other hand, they don’t need to.
Life is good.