I woke up early this morning. Fiebe is sitting on my lap, nestled like a hen. She licks the table constantly, which is as annoying as the BEEP! of the fire alarm yesterday, going off every fifteen seconds because it was time to change the batteries or something, but I couldn't figure out how to take the dumb thing apart to do it. Two days of that and I was ready to do whatever it took to rip the darn thing out of the ceiling and take a hammer to it, pulverizing it into powder. I got up on Ethan's dresser because with the ottoman I was still to short to reach it, and Ethan immediately told me, "Mama, you are going to fall." He ran away and then came back, carrying a heavy stool that was as tall as he was. "Here Mama, you need the stoo-el." His dad would have been incredibly proud of him, and extremely annoyed at me.
Anyways, I stayed on the dresser and I finally was able to read the teeny, barbie size lettering-after twisting and turning my neck and head in unbearable positions-near the flashing green light:
Push to hush.
It should read, Push to hush before you want to shoot yourself.
I pushed it and it made one final, piercing BEEEEEEEEEEEP and has been silent ever since.
Does it still work? I don't know. Do I care right now? Absolutely not.
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