Alarmed

Yesterday morning, we decided to sleep in...till 7am.

The alarm clock in the spare bedroom had other plans.

At 6am, I was pulled from a perfectly lovely dream about eating all the cookies I wanted and not gaining an ounce, by an annoying buzz coming from the other side of the wall.  As I stumbled from my nice, cozy bed, Tim and the dog both rolled over, opened one eye and mumbled something about it being the middle of the night before burying their heads in their pillows again.  Rat Bas@#*ds!

Now, at the best of times, after a really good night's sleep, I wake up slowly.  And grumpy.  And sleepy.  And dopey.  And unless the other dwarves are names cranky, unhappy and miserable, I have nothing in common with any of them.

As I child, I would burrow under the ninety-two blankets plus the sheepskin rug I dragged back from Ireland while my disgustingly cheerful, morning-person father stood in the doorway of my bedroom and whistled "Revile."  If I could have pulled myself from the bed before he cantered happily downstairs, I would have beaten him to death with my pink and purple giraffe-shaped clothes tree.  But I digress.

I lumbered into the room, trying to locate the source of annoyance without A. opening my eyes or B. turning the light on.  Luckily, I was able to find the shrilling siren, but had no idea how to turn it off, which necessitated in me turning on the light, actually opening at least one eye and pushing every button until the darn thing shut up...temporarily.

Is there some reason why manufacturers have stopped putting a simple on/off button on things.  Seriously.  They all have buttons with symbols that are supposed to be intuitive and international, therefore easily understood by everyone.  Just like some of the labels on clothing.  News flash.  I have NO IDEA what a triangle with a line through it means!  Does a trapezoid with a zero in the center mean wash in cold water, or lay flat because if you put this in the dryer, it will come out the size of a postage stamp?  Does a semi-circle with dots mean iron, don't iron or have a nice day?  But I digress.

Apparently pushing all the buttons on the stupid alarm in varying combinations does not turn it off, it just resets it for an hour later.  Not that it mattered, because at that point I was wide awake anyway.  I briefly contemplated just throwing it against the wall until it shut up, but with my luck, the only thing that would accomplish would have been setting off the burglar alarm, and I'm sure I have no idea how to turn that off.

So much for a long, restful night's sleep.

Which was why, last night, I was so tired ad looking forward to (finally) a good night's sleep.

Our smoke detector in the hallway had other plans.

At 4am this morning, we were awakened by a short blip, then a longer beeeeeep from the smoke detector.
This time, both Tim and I sprang out of bed (the dog put her paws over her ears and retreated to the back of her crate) and ran out into the hall to find...nothing.  Total and complete silence.

Heart thumping, adrenaline pumping, nose twitching, I hit the lights and made the rounds looking and smelling for smoke, flames, anything.

Tim grumbled about needing to replace the batteries, tucked himself back up in bed, and nodded off again before my blood pressure had even dropped to twelve times the normal rate.

He was conditioned by our first apartment building where the alarm went off about every other night.  After the twelfth kajillionth time of tromping down seven flights of stairs to mill around the lobby in our pajamas at 1, 2 or 3am, along with every other poor slob in the building, he had had enough.  The next time the alarm went off, he called down to the front desk.

"Is there really a fire this time, or is it another false alarm," he demanded.

"No sir, it's really a fire in someone's kitchen," the night clerk affirmed.

"What floor is it on?" Tim barked.

"Three," came the response.

"Wake me when it reaches five," Tim snarled, hanging up.

But I digress.

I was finally able to drift off again and get a whole, solid hour of sleep before our alarms went off.  Yea (read with deep sarcasm, not joy).

As I sat on the couch, sipping my decaf coffee (who needed more excitement?) and wishing I could slip into a nice, peaceful coma, I heard it again.  The alarm in the guest bedroom was going off.

Tonight, I'm thinking of finding a firehouse to sleep in.  It will almost certainly be more quiet.