The day after

Christmas came and went in a flurry of wrapping paper and little sleep.  I planned to enjoy the day after Christmas by sleeping late and lounging around in my pajamas with peppermint coffee while my husband went to work and my kids played with their presents.  Unfortunately, the day didn't start as planned.

9:45 am. -
Beep.  Beep.  Beep. What is that beeping noise?  I sit up in bed, my head quite foggy from sleep. I wonder if the electricity is off because when that happens our back up batteries all beep to alert us to the fact that they have taken over; like we don't know.  Why am I the only one who hears this beeping noise?  Is it the smoke alarm?  I fall back against the pillows and groan. I just wanted to sleep late. Suddenly I go still.  Is that the smoke alarm?  Should I be worried?  Is anyone else even up?

A scurrying noise.  Someone is in my bedroom.  I ask aloud, "What is that beeping noise?"

Darcy's head appears over mine.  Her eyes are wide.  "Mom, there is someone in our garage and they are yelling that there is a fire."

I stare at her as my brain tries to wrap itself around her words.  "What?" I ask befuddled.

"There is someone in our garage and she keeps yelling, "Fire!"  I'm scared."

I leap out of bed.  "What?  What fire?  What are you talking about someone in our garage?  Who is in our garage?"  My bedroom is spinning as if I've drunk too much liquor, but it is only due to my leaping, something that shouldn't be done anymore at my age.  I begin to walk through the house toward the kitchen door that leads into my garage.  Darcy is at my heels.

I reach the door and it is completely locked from the door knob all the way up to the lock we put on years ago when the kids were small and we were afraid they would somehow escape.  Through the locked door is the Beep!  Beep!  Beep!, a much louder sound now that I am closer.  After the third beep is a woman's automated voice calmly stating, "Fire!  Fire!  Fire!"

"What is that?  What is that?" I ask aloud.  "Who is saying that?"

"I don't know," Darcy whines, her eyes still wide.  "She was in there when I went to check on that noise so I locked the door."

"Well, this is ridiculous."  I unlock the three locks and push open the door.  The beeping noise is ear splitting.  The woman's voice coming from the alarm won't shut up.  "Fire!  Fire!  Fire!"  "Do you smell anything?" I shout above the noise.  "Do you smell smoke?  I can't smell anything because my nose is plugged.  Oh, my god, is the house on fire?"

"No.  I don't know."  Darcy is standing in the doorway with her wide eyes counting on me to protect her.

I look up at the smoke alarm which is directly outside the kitchen door, high above my washing machine and sink.  I vaguely remember that I can't reach this high, that recently I had replaced the batteries in this contraption after spending days searching for the occasional beep that signals the batteries are dying.  I register this while thinking that it certainly can't be the batteries there must be a fire.  In the attic!  It happened once to my friend Sharon, well sort of.

This is all running through my head as I get out the step stool and climb up to reach the smoke alarm.  The beeping noise is so loud I can hardly stand to be this close.  I reach out and push the button in the middle.  Silence.  My ears are ringing despite the sudden quiet.

"Jesus!"  I try to regain some of my wits.  "That thing is loud!"  I look at Darcy whose eyes are not as wide now that the beeping has stopped.  "Do you smell smoke?  I don't smell anything."  I put my hand up against the roof of the garage which is where the attic entry is.  The concrete is cold to my touch.  Wouldn't it be hot if there was a fire?  Why don't I know this stuff?  Shouldn't I know this type of thing?  I feel the roof again.  Nothing.  I climb down.

"Should I go get Chuck?" Darcy asks.  Chuck is our next door retired fireman neighbor.

"Maybe.  Come with me through the house and tell me if you smell anything."  Darcy and I start back through the house.  Madison is sleeping through it all.  Elliot, the dog, is sleepily standing in the hallway scornfully looking at us through bleary eyes as if to say, "What is all the fuss?  Didn't we have enough of that yesterday?  I thought today was a relaxing one."

Darcy and I go through the entire house.  Nothing.  Darcy goes back to watching television. As far as she is concerned the crisis is over. I walk outside the front of my house, but I can't see the roof.  To do that I would have to venture further outside in my pajamas and no bra; not something the neighbors need to be subjected to the day after the birth of the lord.  I go back inside, through the house, and outside in my back yard.  I can see more of the roof from here.  Nothing.  Suddenly the beeping noise sounds again.  I can hear it from my position outside, and sure enough, the lady, "Fire!  Fire!  Fire!"

I run past Darcy, who is nonchalant now, out into the garage, back up on the stool.  I push the button again, but it doesn't go off this time.  I pull the damn thing off the wall, trying to protect my ears with the other hand.  I run around the closed garage shaking the thing.  Beep!  Beep!  Beep!  OMG, the thing is loud.  I punch the button again and silence.  I take a deep breath, remove the batteries, and stare at the thing.  It says it is a fire and carbon monoxide alarm.  What?  Carbon Monoxide?  I peer around the garage searching for fumes.  I turn over the alarm.  It says in big letters that carbon monoxide is odorless and fume less.  It is a silent killer.

I wonder aloud, "Would the woman yell fire if there was poisoning?"  I call my husband.

Tom:  "Hello?"
Me:  "Are you busy?"
Tom:  "Sort of yes, why, what's up?"
Me:  "The smoke alarm in the garage is going off.  It woke me from a deep sleep.  She keeps telling us there is a fire, but I don't smell anything.  I thought maybe it was in the attic, but the ceiling feels cool.  Could there be a fire in the attic?"
Tom:  "Are the other smoke alarms in the house going off?"
Me:  "No.  But good point!  If there was a fire in the attic they should go off, right?  But why is she telling us there is a fire?  And that alarm is also a carbon monoxide alarm.  Would she warn us in the same way as the fire?"
Tom:  "Who is "she"?  You keep saying "she"."
Me:  "The woman in the smoke alarm!"
Tom:  "T h e   w o m a n   i n   t h e   s m o k e  a l a r m?"  He says it as if talking to a slow witted person in his what-the-hell voice he only uses with me.  
Me: (snickering)  "Yes, the woman that sits in the smoke alarm at her computer who pushes the button to alert families to a fire."
Tom:  "O K."
Me:  "Yeah, ignore all of that.  I just want to know if we are slowly dying by carbon monoxide poisoning.  You bought the damn alarm."
Tom:  "Is there an engine running?"
Me:  "No, no I don't think there is any poisoning, and of course there isn't an engine running you have the car.  But I'm confused on the whole fire and poisoning in one alarm.  Plus, I was awakened very abruptly."
Tom: (laughing) "It's after ten in the morning.  If you're really worried, go ask Chuck."
Me:  I thought of that, but I'm in my pajamas and don't have a bra on which seems silly if there really is a fire, but you've convinced me there isn't so I don't need Chuck. But I have to tell you THAT ALARM IS LOUD."

The conversation continued in the same vain for some time with him laughing and me getting annoyed.  At some point the dog began barking and so I hung up and went in search of why he was barking in case he had detected a fire.  He was barking at my neighbors across the street so I yelled out to them.

Me:  "Hi Bonnie!  Hey, do you see smoke coming from my roof?"
Bonnie:  "Hi Cara!  What?"
Me:  "Do you see smoke coming from the roof of my house?"
Bonnie:  "What was that?"  She starts walking toward her driveway.
Me:  "You don't see smoke coming from my house, do you?"
Bonnie:  "What?  I can't hear.  Come down."  She starts down the driveway toward my house.

I sigh.  What is the point now.  I march out in my pajamas, old age breasts sagging with no bra.  I meet her at the street, tell her the story.  She sniffs the air.  "Do you smell that?" she asks me.

My heart starts racing.  Oh, my god, it's true.  I'm going to have to get Chuck.  "NO!" I shriek.  I sniff.  "My nose is stuffy.  I can't smell anything.  You smell something?"

She sniffs again.  "It smells like an electric fire.  Let's go up to your garage."

I follow her up the driveway, open the garage, and in we go.  She sniffs around.  "Well, I don't smell it up here."  She takes the alarm out of my hand.  "I've never seen one of these before."

"Me neither, but apparently there is a woman in there who lets you know when there is a fire.  I'm not sure what she screams when there is carbon monoxide poisoning."  We both stare down at the alarm.  "I thought about getting Chuck, but didn't want to run over there without a bra in my pajamas.  Although, now that I think about it I could have put a bra on and then run over there.  But that seemed silly too if my house was burning down around me."  We look up at each other and start laughing.  We laugh and laugh.  We talk about the holidays and the neighbors and she heads home.

I put new batteries in the alarm, climb back up on the stool and attach it back in its position above the washing machine and sink.  The alarm and the woman are silent.  The batteries must not have been good ones when I replaced them the first time.  I put everything away and go inside.  My adrenaline is pumping.  So much for a nice leisurely sleep in.  Maybe later I'll take a nap.