I Hear Chirping. . .

I was so proud of myself yesterday evening, I had accomplished quite a bit, got cleaned up and headed to bed. As I was winding down my evening I sat reading Harry Potter, Year Six and making mental notes of just how fast I needed to get through these final two books.

With my phone updating me via text of the night’s game Steelers vs. Saints (and having it on in the background) I mumbled at the score, put my book up, turned out the light and finally went to sleep.

Until a couple of hours later I was awoken by a chirping noise. Not a soft chirping noise mind you, a bleeting, high pitched chirp that made me sit up immediately trying to thing what in the world was going on.

One of my first apartments in Nashville was built on Indian burial ground, or at least that is the story. There were several instances of my smoke detector going off at 2am for no reason. And I was a nervous wreck on the nights that would happen. That chirping sound was a familiar sound, one that let’s the occupant know that the battery is dying.

So last night, this morning, whatever, the time I was supposed to be sleeping soundly, I fumbled around my apartment trying to figure out which blasted detector was emitting that horrid sound. Wookie, my sweet little man, had opted to stay on the floor, sprawled out and waiting for me to fix the problem.

Of course it would be the one right next to my bedroom. I drag a chair over, climb up and . . .I am too freaking short to reach it. I mutter, the cat still looks as if I should have sorted this out already and go to get the step ladder. Since I have been know to fall off of the stupid thing, I carefully place it under the detector, insuring that I have got it secure, climb up and OMG, where is the bat???? Still can’t reach it, actually, I can touch it but I cannot get a hold of it so I can open it and pull the battery out.

At this point I was seriously thinking about finding a bat to knock the thing down but remember I didn’t have one. Golf clubs? Check. Football? Oh yes. But I had to reconsider knocking it down since this is an apartment, not my own home. This would be a good time to have a man in my life. . . nope, only have the cat and he is starting to look at me like I am incapable of doing anything right.

So I shut the door, tell Wookie that if he needs to potty, he is going to have to wake me up (seriously, not a crazy cat lady but it was in the middle of the night), turn the volume up a bit on the tv and try to bury my head in my pillows.

Chirp, chirp, chirp was the taunt for the rest of the night.

And one of the few things that is a positive about living in an apartment? I called and left a message in the middle of the night stating someone needs to change the battery since I couldn’t reach it!

And that my friends is how I started my Monday! This is going to be a long week. And in the words of Charlie Brown, GOOD GRIEF!


What you see is what you get; I am a Nashville girl who is single, again. I use the blog to get my inner, tortured, wanna be writer angst out. One day I just may write a book. I have been stumbling through life for 43 years now, I love to cook, read and figure out more embarrassing ways I can either harm myself (thank you hula hoop of 2010 and the case of the thrown back) or just prove how inept I am at household chores and dieting. The people you read about on here are real but most have had their names changed to protect the innocent and not so innocent. And I really should make a list of them so I can remember! Enjoy, read, mock, laugh and comment, it really isn't difficult. Plus, I would prefer reading comments from real people as opposed to the weird spam comments I keep getting. Plus, I will always find the hardest path to follow and take that one, why would anyone want to take the easy way?!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s