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Before I moved to the house I am now in, I was at a small hotel. The room I slept in was a self-contained pond house. Here you see the view from the window on the pond side. This story is while I am there.
It is my second night in the cozy antique pond-house and after helping to get my next house ready for occupancy, I fall onto the bed and into sleep. The fan and a floor lamp are running. 12:00 am a fire alarm goes off. The fire alarm in my space. Would not have thought I was able to do so, as the built in bed is quite difficult to navigate, but somehow I hop-pop effortlessly out. Feet on the floor, trying to put it all together. The alarm keeps ringing. It sounds so loud. I have no idea if it is connected to the fire house or the police or is ringing in the main house. I unplug the fan, the lamp and unlock the door, reaching up from the bottom of the steep slant of stairs. The alarm keeps ringing. I smell no smoke see no flames. and no one reacts. The alarm keeps ringing. I utter a few non-helpful words out loud and grab a towel off the hook by the sink. I put it over the alarm. The alarm keeps ringing. It suddenly disconnects from the wall and there it is, in the towel. It has been hanging on a hook on the wall, attached to no wires, as if that is something I would check? I wrap it in the duvet on the bed, trying desperately to smother it, but it keeps ringing. and I can’t get it open, take the batteries out. Of course there is nothing handy to pry the back off and pop the battery out. [you only need one]. Perhaps I willed it out. The batteries eject and the noise stops. The next morning at breakfast – see photo- I asked the young woman who is managing the guests if she heard the alarm. Nope. Great. That’s reassuring.
And why the “not again!” Perhaps you will remember that in the Upstate house I was also under siege by fire alarms that without provocation went off at 1 or 2 in the morning.