JOHN OWEN

 

No Smoke without Fire.

 

Chirp...    Chirp.  At three o’clock in the morning, that awful chirp noise can only mean one of the smoke alarms needs a new battery. The smart thing to do, of course, is to change the batteries in all the smoke detectors every so often, whether they need it, or not. Then the nuisance chirping is never an issue. But at Three AM, who needs this modern folk wisdom? The first problem is that the chirping is intermittent which means I have to loiter on the stairs landing in my kecks waiting for the next chirp so as to locate the offending alarm.  I found it and set the small step ladder in place. Then I opened the lid to remove the defective battery.  Oops! No battery.  It seems this is a wired-in unit with no battery back-up. Perhaps if I hold-down the ‘Test’ button for a few seconds it will re-set.  It seemed to work!  Okay, “Let’s go back to bed”.

 

Half an hour later – Chirp...  Chirp.  Obviously, I would have to disconnect the wiring. Half asleep, in semi-darkness and dressed for a midnight bomb-scare, I disconnected the wire nuts, and returned to the matrimonial bed. “What did you do?”        “I fixed it”.

Chirp... chirp. This thing has a mind of its own!

 

In the morning, we go out to visit our friendly Rona store. “Where are the smoke alarms, please?” 

“Down there in hardware. Aisle 51, I think.”           “Thank-You.”

“Excuse me. Are you hardware?  Where do you keep the smoke detectors?”  “They’re up in aisle 3.”

We selected a likely looking product with the same fittings as the condemned piece. So, no drilling needed. It will fit in the same ceiling junction box. This model is hard wired, but with a supplied back-up battery.

Installed the new beastie and hit the test button.  All OK!

 

It’s late afternoon.  Chirp... Chirp. They must have supplied a defective battery with the new unit. I changed the battery for a new one from my stash in the bar fridge in my den.

 

All quiet on the home front and after returning from an evening out, settled for a well-earned sleep, (need to make up for last night).

Chirp...  Chirp.  It’s two-thirty AM.  Replaced the battery, again; (good job I know where to find my bar fridge in the semi-darkness). Back to bed. 

 

Chirp...  Chirp. This new alarm has a quick-release wire harness so it is easy to disconnect. Back to bed.

 

Chirp... Chirp.  I have to stand at the top of the stairs, in my underwear waiting for the next chirp.  There it goes!  How can this thing still be alive? I’ve disconnected it and removed the battery. The chirp appears to be coming from the hole where the alarm used to reside.   By this time (four thirty), Her Ladyship is roaming malevolently about the landing. 

 

Chirp... Chirp.  “Here is where it’s coming from.”  And she points to the CO² alarm located on the baseboard. It is flashing “Lo  Bat”.