OK, so maybe BRK Electronics is not a division of Allied Van Lines, but in my early morning delirium, I thought seriously about calling my “personal move coordinator” to see if she could help. With the offending alarm locked up, I finally got back to sleep and spent most of the next day fuming about the situation—especially since when I left for work I had to walk through the waterfall of a broken sprinkler to get to my car. I mustered up all the diplomacy I could and stopped at the office after work to pay the rent and report the problem. Maintenance was dispatched to replace our batteries and as he tested each alarm, I realized why the situation had been so disorienting.
While the detectors are not connected to any centralized alarms, they are connected to each other. One alarm alone is not too frightening, but when one alarm sounds, it triggers the others on a slight delay. The result is like being in an echo chamber with four piercing warbles diving in on you like vultures and picking at your ear drum. That’s also why it was so difficult to determine which alarm was the culprit. With a batch of four fresh Eveready’s, I was satisfied that our warble woes were now behind us and I could finally get my sleep on.
September 3rd, 2AM
You have got to be fucking kidding me. This time the fear and bewilderment of four smoke detectors screaming obscenities at me quickly gave way to anger. The first alarm lasted only a few seconds. I got out of bed anyway, hoping desperately for smoke and flames. Foiled again. I vowed aloud to no one in particular in very colorful terms that the next time the smoke alarm went off in the middle of the night I would make sure there was a reason for it. I got back into bed.
A minute later the air conditioning clicked on and almost simultaneously the alarms sounded again, scaring the ever-living shit out of me for the second time that night. Again, the alarm lasted only a few seconds, but all four reported. A thought occurred to me and I got up to turn off the air conditioner. Again I got back in bed, this time shutting the door, feeling hopeful and a little smug that maybe I had unraveled the mystery of the universe. Nope.
A minute later the alarms sounded again. They seemed to be offended by my closing the bedroom door because this time I heard one of them yell something obscene about my mother.
Jen was livid.
I thought she was going to head back to California right then and there. It was time to get serious; I started looking for matches to set the place on fire. While searching for the matches, I noticed the circuit breaker panel and got another idea. Unfortunately none of the breakers were clearly labeled. They all described something about receptacles, lighting, and various major appliances. I was looking for the one with “give Sean a heart attack and insult his mother” neatly printed on it. I just started flipping switches until I was standing in the dark and that ugly green light on all the smoke detectors was extinguished, pun intended. I especially didn’t appreciate the comment about my mother, so I didn’t stop there. I turned the rest of the breakers back on so I'd have some light, brought out my trusty chair and went to each one of those little bastards and took out the battery. Finally, just to make sure I had gotten my point across, I called the whole lot of them rat bastards and gave them the finger. I went to bed, again.
It was my intention to be home when maintenance came to “fix” the smoke detectors for the second time. Unfortunately they picked the one-hour window during which I went to the store (no rain), emerged from the store and walked back to my car (lots of rain), and drove back to the apartment (no rain). After I took off my wet shoes, I saw a work order on the table: “Replaced batteries in smoke detectors”. Oh thank heaven, the batteries have been replaced, again. At this point it was too late to call the office, they were gone for the day. I decided to accept defeat in this battle but resolved that under no circumstances would I lose this war. The next time I got awakened by a smoke detector in the middle of the night, I would subtract $50 from my next rent check. If the landlord didn’t like it, he could pry the money out of my cold dead hands, which at this rate would be sooner rather than later.
Those readers who have had the pleasure of an early morning wakeup call of the seismic variety will appreciate what I am about to describe. For the next few nights, Jen and I were afraid to go to sleep. We watched TV, left lights on, and stared at the ceiling. After an earthquake, every creak of a two by four or squeak of a door is a possible betrayal. You develop a sixth sense called paranoia. I even saw dead people. Here in Texas we don’t have earthquakes, we have smoke alarms. We listened for the slightest hint of nocturnal terror. If an ant had sneezed I think I would have heard it. Every time the air conditioning clicked on, I held my breath. Saturday and Sunday nights passed without incident. Then Monday came, and with it came a new sound.