Look up...way up...No, wait, don't look up!

[Note: Thanks to all of you for good thoughts re: the root canal. I'm not excited about having to go back, but I won't dread it quite as much, either.]

John Bellen, over at "I Have Three Cats", wrote an hilarious post on the weekend, partly about "Mr. Murphy's" timing in life.

To that, I will add my own little story of timing, Saturday evening after showering and just when I wanted to curl up in bed and read for a while.

Last year (?) I had Robin's husband, Chuck, replace the old wired-in smoke detector in the upper hall, the one that came with the house and should have been replaced about a decade or two ago. The new one also is wired in, but has battery back-up.

Saturday evening I was showering before bed, per usual, when the alarm went off briefly. Scared the beejeepers out of me, so I hopped out of the tub and grabbed a towel to fan the alarm, assuming the steam had triggered it, something that's never happened before.

Fine.

I finished my shower, wiped up the puddles of water I had left, then thought perhaps it was a warning that the battery was low. I know I hadn't changed it since Chuck had installed it.

So I got my step stool and stood under the detector, but wasn't a simple twist-off cover (as far as I could tell) and the stickers on it were all in French. Finally I found the battery compartment--it slides out. Only I couldn't get it to slide out enough to get the battery out easily, and as I was standing there fiddling with it, suddenly that old 9-volt battery popped out, hitting me just below my left eye, on the bone, before clattering to the floor.

Oh, that hurt!

A quick check in the mirror showed a small mark, and I considered myself fortunate that it didn't hit me right in the eye.

Then I had to scramble around for a replacement battery, but since I couldn't get the new one back in, I spent about half an hour looking in various places in the house for the manual. There are only two places I keep my manuals and it wasn't in either. I looked high and low, double-checked the usual spots, nothing. I have no idea if I tucked it away in some obscure spot or if it somehow ended up in the recycle bin.

So back upstairs I went, and I eventually managed to get the new battery in, though because I'm so short, I couldn't see if it was in correctly (plus/minus). The sliding compartment closed, so I hoped that meant that I did get the battery oriented properly, by sheer accident. (Robin, next time you guys come for a visit, maybe Chuck can check for me, if he wouldn't mind!)

And that was my little Saturday night adventure, which completely derailed my cosy bed/reading plans.

As for the lesson in all of this, if you're short, don't stand right underneath your wired-in detector when trying to figure out how to replace the battery.  :-p

Peace.

Another one of our many squirrels, on our fence on Sunday afternoon.