Dear Darling Ones,

Today I called my BFK on the phone at 9:01 in the a.m.

“Hey,” she answered tentatively.
“I NEED HELP!” I shouted.
“Ok. What’s going on?”
“My smoke alarm is chirping every – ” CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah,” she said laughing.
“I don’t know what to do.” I said. “I disconnected the smoke detectors took out the batteries – ” CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP. “And now the wires are chirping, and I’m too afraid of heights to climb a ladder.”
“Do you need a ladder?”
“I have one in the garage.”
“We’re on our way.”

Thirty-ish minutes later, Atom & BFK walk into Supergenius HQ.

“So, it stopped,” Atom said when he wasn’t immediately hit with the CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP.
“NO!” I howled. “The wires are chirping.”
“You know,” he said. “Eventually, you’ll just used to it and won’t even hear it. It’ll be like the chime of a grandfather clock.”
I glared at him.
“The wires are chirping?” He asked with a dubious look on his face.

I calmly explained the smoke alarm fuckery saga that has been the bane of my existence for the past two weeks. We’re talking full-volume, unceasing, the house is on fire bleats at five in the morning. And 7:44 in the morning. I eventually changed all the batteries and thought my problems were solved. A few days later I was assaulted by intermittent full-volume bleats for like 22 seconds. Eventually, I unplugged the fuckers and replaced them with some janky-ass battery operated $7 specials until my brother-in-law comes and fixes them for real.

Atom listened calmly, flinching when the CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP startled us every forty-five fucking seconds.

“Now the wires are chirping?” He asked again with the dubiousness.
“YES! The wires in gaping holes are chirping.”
“Ok,” he said as he headed outside to get the ladder.
When he came back in and stood at the bottom of the steps he looked at me as the wires CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP chirped their song of madness.
“See?” I said. “The wires are chirping.”

He disappeared upstairs and two CHIRP CHIRP CHIRPS later we hear. “It’s not the wires.” Then he comes down with my crusty-ass carbon monoxide detector in his hands. “It’s this thing. It says error.”

“Ohhh,” I said. “I never thought of that thing.”

He put in new batteries and when it still chirped with the error message, he took out the batteries, and told me to get a new one.

“Chirping wires?” He asked again having driven a half-hour in 8ยบ weather to solve my problem in 90 seconds.
“Yes,” I said. “My brain decided wires attached to nothing could chirp.” I showed him my phone with the google search history. “I googled hard. I don’t know how long it would have taken me to get to the carbon monoxide detector.”

He shook his head and laughed.

Darling Ones, I cannot recommend enough having friend who will believe your cockamamie magical thinking enough to come investigate a problem and only tease you a little bit for being bonehead.

Embarrassingly yours,

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