In what can only be considered a bizarre form of karmic punishment for an apparently horrific evil I performed in a past life, our fire-alarm system is on the fritz.
That’s right. I, deathly afraid of fire and fire alarms, am currently living in a home where the fire alarm goes off ALL THE TIME for no apparent reason. And yesterday it happened ALL NIGHT LONG. Beginning at about 6pm and not ending until approximately 5:30am, when Crown, finally at his wit’s end (mine ended somewhere around, oh, when the FIRST ALARM sounded) ripped the bloody thing out of the ceiling.
We’re assuming that there is some kind of electrical malfunction at the heart of this issue, rather than assuming that we’re living with some sort of noxious gas that is tasteless, odorless, yet deadly. But those of you who have read this blog before, or who know me at all, probably understand that while my brain says electrical malfunction, my body is strongly in favour of the noxious gas option.
Which means that my body didn’t sleep last night at all. Which means I’m extremely tired. Which is why I’m explaining things that don’t need to be explained to people who aren’t as tired as I am. Sorry.
Suffice it to say, somewhere around 3am I was silently lying in bed, heart pounding, palms sweating, clutching the snoring dog to my chest, waiting for the horrible drill to sound again and praying that our deaths would be swift and painless.
By 4:30am; however, I was just all, “Let this motherfucker burn to the ground already. Bring it! I want to feel the sting.”
Obviously we survived the night. But now I’m entirely terrified to be alone in my own home and have seriously entertained the option of sleeping on a bench outside in the courtyard. Good thing this didn’t happen in February.
I must have burned and pillaged some serious villages in the 1800s or something. I mean honestly.