If the fact that smoke detectors only decide their batteries are low at night, isn’t proof that the universe has a sense of humor, then, I don’t know what is. I realize that I’m giving the smoke detectors a little too much credit (and human abilities), but come on, when was the last time your smoke detector starting beeping in the middle of the day?
Last night, the loud beep that woke me up in the middle night was not coming from the smoke detector, but the carbon monoxide detector. And by the way, it is so true that children (and husbands) will sleep right through those annoying beeps, which absolutely amazes me, since almost every other noise seems to wake them (the children, that is, not my husband).
Since disarming carbon monoxide detectors doesn’t fall under my job description and misery loves company, I took the liberty of waking my husband. Even if I wanted to do it myself (and I don’t), I can’t reach the smoke detectors without a step stool (and, it turns out he can’t, either).
After some investigating and dismantling, he informed me that it was the CO2 detector that was causing the problem, and then, promptly fell back to sleep. I did not.
Before he nodded off, I had managed to ask him if we should be concerned. You know, like maybe the CO2 detector was beeping for a reason? I’ve never heard the CO2 detector go off, before, so how could I be sure that the beeping wasn’t the alarm?
My husband assured me that if it was really going off because it detected CO2, the other detector would be beeping, too. That didn’t exactly quell my fears. It’s not that I didn’t believe him, per se, it’s just that I’m not so trusting when it comes to matters of dying in my sleep.
What if he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about? This was the man, after all, who, when I went into preterm labor, told me to relax. The same man, who, when, a week later, I spiked a fever of 105 and got the rigors, told me to stop shaking, even after I told him to call 911.
But, more importantly than my doubt of my husband’s “you’re fine,” how I could be sure the other CO2 detector was even working? I don’t check these things. I know he doesn’t.
Instead of doing the logical thing, which would have been to just get out of bed and look, I chose to lie there for twenty minutes entertaining crazy thoughts in my head, like how long would it take the police to find all our bodies the next day? And, why can’t you smell carbon monoxide?
After finally coming to realization that I was not going to fall back to sleep until I checked, and that I wasn’t willing to die due to laziness, I got out of bed to investigate. Lo and behold, the green light was shining bright. I was safe.
I wish I could say that my effort resulted in a peaceful night’s sleep, but Second Son pretty much wrecked that idea, a short time later, when he nestled his restless body in between my husband and me.
Little Lady only complicated matters when she, in the wee hours of the morning, (I’m sure in a fit of jealous rage) then, forcefully inserted herself between Second Son and I, nearly ripping my hair out in her effort.
Needless to say, I don’t know if I’m making it on the elliptical today.
So, consider this my public service announcement to you, it’s time to change those batteries!
Have a good day.