It starts. The dang beeps start.
And I can’t figure out which alarm has the dead battery. It’s like I’m in the Twilight Zone. Like someone’s gas lighting me.
I stand under the one in my bedroom. The noise is so loud, it’s got to be coming from close by.
Nothing. I’m there for two, three minutes, although it feels like an hour. Nothing. Crickets.
I go back to the bed. Lay down. Shut my eyes. I start to relax. Visions of sugar plums and crap like that.
I take the alarm in my bedroom down.
How do you get this damn battery out of here? You sac-o-wheat. I can’t get it out! Good lord. It’s childproof. I could break into the Alamo more easily than this. Where’s the frickin’ screw driver?
Back to bed. I’m so dang tired.
Mmmm. It’s cold. My teeth are chattering.
I wish I had a gun. I’d blow every dang one of them off of the ceiling.
I begin picturing myself, Bruce Willis style, machine gun out, blasting the plaster off of my ceiling. Oh, oh how good it feels.
As I stand, quietly, under the one in the kitchen, I glance at the clock on the stove. The green neon lights are bright because the rest of the house is pitch black.
It’s 4:13 AM, and I am in my underwear standing in the middle of the kitchen waiting for a beep! This is un-believable.
I hear it again.
The dining room! Ahh.
I grab a chair and yank the thing down. I remove the batteries and set it on the kitchen counter.
I head back to bed and set the empty alarm on my bedside table.
I’m so, so tired.
There’s no battery in here and it’s still beeping! How can that be? It has become a living being! You son-of-a-gun.
I turn off the burglar alarm and stomp to the back door. It's got to be 20 degrees out here. I walk out on the porch and heave it as far as I possibly can.
“Beep all you want you good for nothing piece of junk.” I wonder if the neighbors can hear.
I lay back down. It’s 4:44. I have breakfast meeting starting in 2 and a half hours.
I turn over on my sleeping side, my comfy pillow between my knees to keep them from knocking together.