a little *bleeping* lesson about control

There are four smoke detectors in my cute little house: one in each bedroom, one in the dining room, which is close enough to both the living room and the kitchen that those two rooms don't need one. And the fourth one is in the basement. Since I moved in a little over a year ago, I've had to replace the batteries in two of the four. How did I know when it was time to change the battery? (I really want to pronounce that word "battry" with an English accent.) It bleeped at me every two minutes until I shut it up with a fresh nine volts.

So on Saturday I'm putzing around the house, minding my own business, when I hear the familiar *bleep*! *bleep*! I know it's not the basement one, cuz I just changed it, and it's not the other three because the *bleep*! I hear is further away. Hmm, says Amy. Maybe there're two in the basement. I go downstairs, search quickly, hear the *bleep*! even further away, so I'm pretty sure it's not down there. I come back upstairs and realize I'm gonna have to climb the stairs to the attic, something I haven't actually done since I moved in. It's a wee bit scary up there. I use the entryway to the attic as a closet, storing my vacuum, ironing board, air conditioner, and other rarely used appliances there. So I climb the steps up to the attic, which in all honesty would make a fabulous upstairs bedroom or office space, but it's not finished and it's not my house, so forget that. Anyway, I tiptoe around the attic, cuz ya know, if you tiptoe and the floors are unstable, you certainly won't fall through. Not like if you walked normally.

I found nothing. I searched the basement again. Checked the pantry, the bathroom, the huge closet that connects the two bedrooms, I even checked the outside porches. And still I'm being taunted with the damn *bleep*! every two minutes. Finally, after about an hour of this, I call my landlord and ask him where all the smoke detectors are. I tell him the situation and he has me go back downstairs and look between the rafters very carefully. Nothing. He tells me he'll come over to help.

Couple hours later, I'm on the phone with the boss when Stan arrives. I get off the phone and once again we search the entire house. He hears the *bleep*! only once, but it's enough to help me feel like I'm not going off my rocker. Finally, he's sitting in the living room with me and he says, "Do you think it could be coming from outside?"

Um, I dunno. "Have you heard it when the house was closed up and the a/c was on?"

Um, I dunno.

Turns out the empty house next door is *bleeping*! ready for a new battery, but when it catches on fire from kids playing with matches, my smoke detectors will alert me, and Belly and I will escape with our lives.