beka stays real : just call me phoebe

via google images

Remember that episode of Friends with Phoebe and the fire alarm? Yeah, I’ve basically been reenacting that for the past week.

Let’s rewind to the fall when I thought I had a gas leak but actually had an unlit pilot light (Gas Stove Rookie, Party of One) and the gas company sent the fire department out, sirens blaring, to my rescue. While the firemen were here for nothing they figured they might as well check my smoke detector. They deemed it acceptable for use.

Fast forward to a week ago during a pre-check for an upcoming fire inspection. Come to find out that the smoke detector deemed acceptable for use had no batteries. So apparently it was acceptable for hypothetical use. Which would have been a great comfort during a non-hypothetical fire, I’m sure.

So new batteries were installed. You’d think that would be the end of this story.

And wouldn’t that make for a scintillating blog post.

No worries, there’s more!

Later that night I was boiling water. Boiling. Water. And suddenly to my great dismay, a foreign beeping noise was coming from the hallway. Since the sound of smoke detectors blaring during mealtimes is not necessarily foreign to me (sorry, Mom), I did what I’d done for years: stood underneath it for a few seconds while fanning a large object to clear the air. And the beeping ended.

Until it began again two minutes later.

This cycle was repeated FOUR MORE TIMES before I finally pulled a Phoebe and took the alarm down from the ceiling.

But it continued to beep.

So I removed the batteries.

But it continued to beep.

So I removed the wiring.

And all was (finally, for the love of imminent hearing loss) quiet on the western front.

Fast forward a few days. Fire inspections are now over. I come home for the night, park my car down the street, and start walking toward my apartment. In the distance, I hear a faint noise. I bet someone’s car alarm is going off. But as I get closer, I recognize the noise. Someone’s fire alarm is going off.

“Must be one of the new ones put in for the fire inspections,” I think.

(You already know where this is going. You guys are swifter than I am.)

But then I arrive at my front door.

The beeping is louder.

I walk up the stairs.

The beeping is louder.

I open my apartment door.

The beeping is louder…and directly in front of me.

Coming from the alarm I had previously murdered.

Apparently it had been fixed and reinstalled for the inspections and was now gracing me with it’s welcoming intonations once again.

Feel free to assume that it is neither fixed nor reinstalled anymore.

All of this to say: Previous Tenant, I understand why the alarm was battery-barren to begin with. And thank you.

(Disclaimer for all of you kindly concerned citizens out there (Hi, Dad!): I also have a new fully functioning alarm in a less temperamental location. Both my sanity and my neighbors are thrilled with this development.)

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3 thoughts on “beka stays real : just call me phoebe

  1. yes, I remember that episode! sometimes, I think I’m living iin several Seinfeld episodes. Fire alarms drive me crazy, either they are too sensitive or they don’t go off even after I’ve burned dinner! Very funny post, but you still need fire alarms, better get a new one.

  2. Pingback: beka stays : march recap | beka stays

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