This morning felt like one of those days when the gods just shuffled awake, rubbed their eyes, stretched wide, rolled their heads, yawned, and then pondered... "How can we f*$k with Geoff, today?". And verily did the smoke alarm appear before them, leaping with excitement, squealing 'pick me.... pick me'. So just when it looked like I'd make it out the door on time for a change, a high pitched 'beep' echoed from the back hallway, and as much as I know there is a complete randomness at play here, the irony and frustrations that followed were seemingly orchestrated against me.
I knew that there was no putting off fixing this, and if it were left unattended, the kids' nap time might be impacted later in the day. When the kids' nap time is reduced, it eats into the time my wife has dedicated to the calming motions of rocking in the corner in the fetal position, drooling sporadically and chanting incoherently, muttering "what have I done?... what have I done?... what have I done?... ". Then, in turn, the ripple effect would continue to spread, disrupting my own evening, and my own plans to do the same thing.
I initially assumed the rhythmic chirping was emanating from the hallway, where a smoke alarm was visible to me when I first heard the sound. That should have been my first clue that I was wrong. Line of sight. These little bastards have proximity detectors on them and they know when you're searching for the source of the beep. I learned that first hand this morning.
I scavenged the garage, located a 9-volt battery, and returned to the hallway, step-stool in tow. And then I heard the silence. The beeping had stopped. The motion detectors were kicking in.
I figured I'd just test the battery, removing it and placing it upon my tongue, feeling that minor jolt of electricity that indicates a strong cell. As an aside, every time I ever do that, time stands still, the room spirals around me and into the distance, blurring into a single swirl of blended colors and images, and then snaps back suddenly, revealing the basement of the home we occupied in Pennsylvania, myself and my older brother, and his suggestion that I put my tongue on those little pieces of metal to see what happens. (In hindsight, I believe these same God's had sent him to do their bidding during those earlier years).
" chirp! "
Yes, at about the same moment that I was returning the good battery into the hallway alarm, another 'chirp' filled the air, and it was definitely coming from the kids' bedroom. So I descend the stool, hearing yet another confirming 'chirp' while doing so, and carried it into the kids' room. Just in time to have the chirping cease yet again.
Instead of waiting for the chirp, assuming that I was narrowing things down by the process of elimination, I just got on the stool, removed the battery, placed it on my tongue, relived my childhood trauma yet again, and determined it was fine as well. It was not the hallway, nor was it the kids' room.
" chirp! "
OK, now I'm getting irritated. The clock is ticking, I've gotta get out the door, but I've started this process and have to finish it. Somewhere down the list of "issues" I have, I believe between number 350 and 425, lies the need to complete what I started. It's an issue because it's seldom possible, and it's never without an earnest effort that I walk away from something in mid-effort.
" chirp! "
It's not the hallway. It's not the kids' room. And it can not be our bedroom, because I yanked the battery out of that one about a week or two ago when it started in on me at about 2am one morning. I'd yet to replace it, the cover's still hanging open, so it can not be the bedroom. I had, in fact, grabbed 2 9-volts in the garage, figuring i'd kill two birds with one stone and replace that one as well.
" chirp! "
I walked out of their room and down to the intersection of the hallway that leads to the remainder of the house. And I stood there. Still. Motionless. Directly beneath the 1st smoke alarm, in earshot of the kids' room and our bedroom, facing out to the rest of the house. And I waited. In fact, I probably even consciously stilled my own breathing, expecting that I'd hear and detect the origin of the chirping, a pin drop, or crickets.
" cricket "
After standing there for more than a reasonable amount of time, waiting for a revival of the routine sound of the failing alarm and hearing absolutely nothing, I headed toward the furthest room, a spare room on the opposite side of the house that we use as a kids playroom. Therein, on the ceiling, conveniently above a table upon which I could easily stand, was another smoke alarm.
I reached up, squinting slightly to make out the small print on the button, embossed into the plastic in order to prevent anybody with less than 20-20 vision in low light from reading the text, and pressed the test button. " beep beep " went the alarm, in a clearly different tone then the chirp I was chasing down. This.... this was not my man. This was an innocent bystander.
" chirp! "
The sound was back! And son-of-a-bitch if it was not coming from the very hallway I'd already just inspected! How this could be was beyond me, but as I scrambled off the table and back down towards the hallway, it occurred again, in that direction. So I raced through the kitchen and into the intersection again, expecting to make it time for the next interval, and hopefully determine it's location. Perhaps it was one of the others after all, and the unit, not the battery, was the problem. Now I just needed to confirm which one. So I stood quietly, and as the sound in my head of a ticking second hand echoed within the increased pounding of my own heartbeat, I waited in vain.
" cricket "
For those who know me, and understand my frustration level with things that just don't make any logical sense, you can envision my jaw tensing at this point, and the color of my face reddening slightly, but this was still 'a puzzle' and in such, still a bit entertaining. But only a little bit, and not something I could stand for much longer, kinda like watching that "blue collar comedy tour" show on TV. All I really wanted to do was to figure out what was causing the chirping, and "git 'er done".
Yet after waiting, for easily 60 seconds or more, standing in the hallway and listening intently, it had stopped, as did my willingness to continue to chase down this phantom sound. So I returned to the chair in the living room, where I'd been putting on shoes and socks and gathering my belongings in order to head out the door and off to work....
" chirp! "
"CRAP! Where the hell is that coming from?!?!" I thought. "I will master you, annoying tone! I will find you, conquer you... I will make you my bitch. I will make you pay!" At this point, I could not turn back and walk away from this relentless taunting and had to see it through to its eventual resolution or my own demise.
I walked again to the intersection and heard nothing. I walked back into the kids room and heard nothing.
" chirp! "
I walked back to the intersection and heard nothing. And then I actually check the alarm in our bedroom, the one without a battery. Don't ask me why, but I did. I realize that any electrical engineer could explain to me that it's not possible that a unit that's not had a battery for two weeks might have somehow retained a residual charge, sufficient enough to mysteriously start chirping, but I just had to check it. it was still open, still without a battery, and clearly not making any noises. But while I was there I ascended the stool and replace the battery anyway, just to get this off my plate.
" chirp! "
I rushed back to the intersection yet again, having heard the chirp, and beginningo formulate the consipiracy theory.
" chirp! "
A-ha! I got you... I know for absolute certain that came from somewhere other then the hallway and back bedrooms. The search could now be delegated to that section, and the only alarm out there was in that playroom. You little bastard, I have you now.
I walked to the intersection of the kitchen and playroom, started menacingly up at the only remaining possible offender, waiting patiently like a hungry alley cat, pressed low to the ground, it's rear legs haunched upwards and locked in position, ready to pounce instantly onto an unsuspecting mouse he's tracked down for his lunch.
" chirp! "
No way. No freakin' way. I was staring directly at it, and that definitely came from the other direction. This was not possible, and by this point, I was mentally heading down the winding path to looney town. This was just not possible. It was as if they were playing some obscenely cruel game of 'keepaway', tossing the chirp between themselves as I scrambled from room to room, leaping to capture something just out of my reach. So I headed back again, trembling a bit now, towards the hallway intersection one more time.
" CHIRP! "
I stopped. I froze in my path. Mid-step. Motionless. I was directly in the center of the kitchen and, somewhere, in that immediate vicinity, was the source. The only thing, though, is that there is no smoke alarm in the kitchen, or nearby!
Submitted for your approval: A man on his way to work is pulled aside into a maze of convoluted pathways. A man with a penchant for puzzles finds himself searching for the elusive and moving target of an absolute explanation. In the world he knows, solutions are as evident and obtainable as any reasonable circumstance might dictate. But unfortunately for this man, the maze he's been dropped into is not one being played out in the arena of logic he perceieves as rational and uniform. This game, as he's about to discover, is being played out in, The Twilight Zone.
I stood there in utter disbelief and silence. Was I losing my mind? Have I become so scattered that I'd somehow installed, out of site, a smoke detector, and then forgotten it? I look under the cabinets and around all the surrounding walls, searching unsuccessfully to find the detector. I had the battery in one hand and the stool in the other. I just needed to find the damned thing.
" CHIRP! "
There was no mistaking. It was right here. And when I looked up, all I could see was the long cover over the florescent light fixture. The one that had been installed several months back after the prior one had gone bad. "Could it.... no, no, come on. But maybe.... it can't be. There's no way the installer actually put a light fixture OVER an existing alarm. IS there?!?!?".
That had to be it. It had to be. There's no where else to search. So I got on the step ladder and wrestled the cover off the lights, unable to see behind it until I had it completely removed and suspended in air with both hands, hoisted slightly aside.
Lights. Nothing but lights.
As I replaced the cover onto the fixture, I marveled at how the pulsing rhythm in my own temple and ears so hauntingly mirrored the sound one's tires make driving across the Golden Gate Bridge. "Thumpa... thumpa... thumpa... thumpa... thumpa... thumpa...", and I wondered just how often visiting hours at the sanitarium would coordinate with the kids schedules so they could come see daddy and wave at me from behind the glass while I strained to return the gesture with my arms and hands bound tightly against my sides, the jacket's sleeves latched together at an unreachable position on my back.
" CHIRP! "
"OK, that's it. It's right here, and hell or high water, I'll find it. If for no other reason then to feel it's white plastic casing strain momentarily and then give from the pressure, shattering under the weight of my stomping feet. I'll find it!! Perhaps there's something on the counter, beneath a towel or behind a bottle or can."
And as I pressed aside a box or two, the answer was revealed, logic was restored into my universe, and, although quivering and covered with perspiration, I felt a momentary rush of gratification and resolution. For there, against the wall, leaning just far enough out of the socket, was a carbon monoxide detector we purchased some years back. One that, when it's without a power source, has a battery backup that enables it to emit a modest 'chirp' to alert the owner that it's unplugged. How in the hell it happened to be hanging in just such a position as to intermittently receive power, stopping the chirping, which happened to agonizingly occur whenever I was atop the stool or staring the other direction, is as beyond my understanding, as is the reason we even have the thing in the first place.
Actually, I know the reason we have it. Somewhere, once or twice, somebody succumbed to the effects of carbon monoxide poisoning, a gas undetectable by smell alone, and an industry was born. A product was created, fear inducing marketing was devised, and mothers of newborns were targeted with the simple message of "if your child dies from this and you could have prevented it by buying our product, you'll never forgive yourself". And like any husband and father, I was unable to pass the "approval to purchase" test by adequately answering the question "Can you absolutely guarantee me that we could never, ever, ever be at risk and die from carbon monoxide poisoning?". Clearly, nobody, especially an engineer, can answer that with "Yes". That damned "absolutely" loophole has worked against me on more than one occasion.
And so, resolved, I was able to leave the house, get in my car, and race to work, delayed yet again by yet another odd and inconsequential string of events that bumped me off my path. Sometimes I feel like I'm the little ball on a foosball table.
Gods.... you got me. You got me again, and good. So, how about taking a few weeks to bask in that glory and allow me time to return to a state of ignorant bliss, huh? Oh, and Serling, If I ever spot you just off camera in my life again, I'm gonna kick your can.