BEEP

As we head into month #985 of the virus, my nights and days are screwed up. I've always been a night owl, but this quarantining has really messed with me. I thought it was due to minimal exercise, so I made a conscious decision to move this week. I walked the neighborhood, exercised in the pool, and stood when my Apple watch suggested it instead of waving my arm up and down in the air like my SIL does to meet her goals. I made myself get out of bed before 8:30 every morning, no matter what time I went to bed, and I wouldn't let myself nap even if my body begged for it.

It didn't change a thing. 

Friday, I crawled between the sheets after two o'clock. I'd waited for my youngest to return from a social distance get together, and then I'd spent time chatting in bed with my vampire eldest, who always exceeds my bedtime by at least an hour, sometimes more. I tossed and turned for probably a half an hour before my brain shut down and sleep crept into my body.

BEEP

The noise was loud and very distinct—smoke alarm. Or, maybe I'd heard it wrong. Perhaps one of Tom's back-up batteries, those that are attached to major electric appliances. I was unsure. I wondered if I could sleep through the series of beeps as obviously, my husband could. 

BEEP

It was definitely a smoke alarm, and since it sounded like it was literally in my bedroom, I decided it had to be the closest alarm in the hallway right outside Madison's bedroom door. I climbed out of bed and pushed open her door. She was on her phone, the eery light illuminating her face.

Me: "Do you hear the beep?"

Madison: "What beep?"

Me: "Are you being funny?"

Madison: "I don't think so. What beep?"

We went back and forth like this with me because I believed she was messing with me. She wasn't. Madison hadn't heard the beep. By now, the dog had joined us, and he stood in Madison's room with us while we waited for the noise to sound again.  

It didn't.

I waited ten minutes for the damn beep, and when it didn't sound, I went back to bed. Elliot chose to remain with Madison. I got settled and prayed for slumber.

BEEP

I ignored it. When it went off a second time, I texted Madison. She didn't answer me because she was already in the hallway trying to remove the battery from the smoke alarm. I joined her.

Me: "So, you heard it this time?"

Madison: "Yes, I heard it. Every time it went off, the dog whined and bumped my mattress."

We took out the battery, laid it with the cover on the piano bench, took the dog outside to do his business one last time for good measure, said good-night, and retired to our separate rooms. We both went to sleep--for approximately fifteen minutes--before Elliot began howling. I heard it almost subconsciously, from far, far away, and somewhere in the back of my brain, I wondered if we should've let the dog stay longer outside. He howls at night only if he needs to go out or it is storming. But my N3 stage of my NREM was overtaking the N2 stage, and I was desperate to let it. I ignored the dog.

BEEP

Poof! I came out of the NREM instantly, my eyelids shooting open. What the hell? Had I seriously just heard that, or was I dreaming? I grabbed my phone and shined the light toward where Elliot sleeps in our bathroom. No Elliot. I moved it, and there he was standing in our doorway, looking straight at me.

Elliot: "It's about damn time!" 

I let my head fall back against the pillow, glancing at the time. It was three-forty in the morning. Elliot whined and pushed his nose against my mattress. 

BEEP

I got out of bed and went into Madison's room.

Me: "Maddy? Are you awake?"

Madison: "How can I not be? The dog's been howling for the past ten minutes! I was asleep, and he keeps waking me up."

Me: "It's because of the beeping. Do you hear it?"

Madison: "Yes. I checked Darcy's room, but she doesn't have a smoke alarm. I don't know where it's coming from, and I'm getting really tired of the dog coming to me when things happen that he doesn't like. Why am I his go-to person?"

Me: "The beep is coming from my bedroom. Your dad has something hooked up behind my dresser, maybe it's that?"

We went to investigate. By now, I was laughing uncontrollably because Madison refused to whisper, and I kept shushing her, she kept saying she wouldn't, and just the thought of Tom waking up while all of this was happening, well, I couldn't stop giggling while imagining that conversation. As I've written multiple times, Tom is not someone who reacts well at being awakened. 

Madison: "That's just a wifi thing behind your dresser. It doesn't beep."

Me: "Let's just sit here until we hear it again. I'm telling you, it's coming from in this room."

Madison: "I'm Googling beeping after removing the battery from an alarm."

We sat, Madison on the floor with the dog, googling on her phone, and me on a chair. Tom snored. When the beep finally came, it was loud, and it came from my left. I squinted at my closet while the dark recesses of my brain stumbled through files until I had a eureka moment, remembering once seeing an object in the closet that resembled a smoke alarm. 

The three of us scrunched into the closet, Madison and I shining our lights around the ceiling. There, above the door, was a smaller version of the smoke alarm we'd already disabled. Immediately it beeped as if rewarding us for our find. Madison ripped the cover off, removed the battery, and added it to the other on the piano bench. This sent me dissolving into laughter again at picturing Tom's expression when discovering this collection in the morning.

It was four o'clock by the time we finally got into bed and were able to drift off to sleep. We slept well into the late morning, where we then told our story and discovered that a month ago, Tom and Oleg had changed out the smoke alarm batteries...with expired batteries.

Tom: "Guess that tells us for sure that the expiration dates on batteries mean something."

He's lucky Madison and I were tired and walked away.