Monday Moanings - March 14, 2016

ALARM!!!

At 3:10 this morning an ear-splitting screech ripped through my fitful slumber. Not the melancholy intermittent bleeps of dying batteries in smoke detectors, which many times before have punctuated the night time, but it was the full blown cry of imminent danger that had us bolt upright in bed, sniffing the air.

In unison my love and I said, "I don't smell anything. Do you?"

Bedclothes were kicked off and light switches fumbled for. Arthritic joints protested the sudden movements as we propelled ourselves out of bed, pulled on robes and slippers. I admit I did briefly consider donning jeans, sweater and socks but opted for speed instead.

The alarm emanated from the family room downstairs, the room with the woodstove which heats much of our house during the winter months, along with a gas furnace for backup. "But there's no fire in the stove tonight is there?" I asked my love as we thumped our way down the stairs."

"Nope. I let it go out because it's been so warm."

With no signs of smoke in the air whatsoever, job #1 was to silence the painful alarm. That done, we spent the next half hour checking the woodstove - stone cold; carbon monoxide detectors - reading "0"; and pilot lights - all functioning to spec. Being of a certain age when senses and memory are less than top drawer, we also checked in with each other several times. "Do you smell anything?" The answer was always the same, "No."

No fault found.
Conclusion: Equipment error.
Resolutions: 1. go back to bed,
                     2. purchase new smoke detector later today.

But tell me, WHY do smoke detectors, carbon monoxide detectors, and probably all critical home alarm systems, always malfunction in the middle of the night?

Seen in a shop window,  St. John's, Antigua

©2016 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - January 22, 2015

I knew this day would come

It was inevitable I know. Such things come to us all, but I do like to live in hope. The die was cast from the moment I was created. I had been raised to perfection in such marvellous warmth, and lifted with care accompanied by soothing sounds of praise. "Careful now. Easy does it. Perfect, Oh so wonderfully perfect," I heard one say.

I was dusted and dressed in best white then tucked into a shiny white container alongside the others. Oh yes, I had siblings, dozens of them in fact all bumping and rubbing up against one another, all born on the same day. Each one as round and fragrant and plump as I was. Each one just as perfect.

At first all was cosy and quiet but then about month ago, my dear companions in the dark container began to disappear. It always happened in the same way: a tremor rumbled through the space, then a brief scraping sound announced the coming of the light. It came through the great round door above me,  a sliver of white that grew into blinding full brightness. A shiver of fresh air settled into every nook and cranny. Then the great claw descended. All five fingers of articulated dexterity hovered for a time, tracing out a menacing circle of doom over all of our heads. I always did my best to hide or at least look undesirable. When it came, the smash and grab was swift. One, two, three, sometimes as many at four perfect ones rose up into the light out of sight, gone forever. Then it was over; the soothing darkness returned and all was quiet again.

Many days there were multiple attacks on my little tin can. I've lost so many of my companions! Yet as our numbers have decreased so have the abductions. That's a small comfort, let me tell you!  I had a dozen buddies last week and today just ONE!

So she with her silver buttons and I in my white cloak await our fate...

 The light is coming. The claw descends.
The voice of the claw intones the judgement, "Time to finish these off."
It is done. I have been embraced by the light. The Christmas cookie tin lies empty.

And that folks is how the cookie crumbles!
Cheers!

©2015 April Hoeller