Ah the cruel ironies of life. Miss Crankypants wants to know why we can put a man on the moon but we can’t make him put the seat down in the bathroom. These are the kinds of deep questions Miss CP regularly meditates on. So imagine her interest when she read that at last someone has invented a better smoke detector.
Miss Cranky has a love/hate relationship with these devices. Love, in the obvious sense that she really doesn’t want to be roasted alive should her humble domicile go up in flames. Hate as in why does the darn thing only seem to work when she’s either frying bacon or stepping out of the shower?
You know the drill: You’re explaining to your spouse that you really do like your burger WELL-DONE, when the shrieking starts. Miss CP is pretty sure smoke alarms were first manufactured to literally wake the dead. As you rush over to the alarm, frantically waving a dish towel, Spousie stands there muttering, “I said MEDIUM RARE.”
You haven’t been breathing lately if you’ve never draped the offending smoke alarm with the towel so you can eat your burned burger in peace. A funeral shroud for this essential appliance which everybody hates but is afraid to break it off. As in break it off the wall and fling it into the street.
If you did get brave enough to chuck the smoke detector, you just KNOW your husband will spontaneously combust in front of your very eyes. And take the rest of the house with him. Selfish moron.
Miss Crankypants is referring to the detector not the hubby. But she digresses.
Even better than the three-alarm screech which sounds every time you turn on the stove is the middle of the night chirping. If you read the fine print on your detector, you’ll note the unit is guaranteed to run low on batteries only at 3AM. The chirping will last approximately three light years, so don’t even try to go back to sleep.
In the event of endless post-midnight chirping, Miss Cranky recommends you wake your dear spouse and force him to get up and replace the battery in the stupid thing. However, unless you keep nine volt batteries on your bedside table, it’s a given that said spouse will stub his toe going to the junk drawer, only to discover an empty Energizer package.
When you consider the number of times you’ve put the seat down for him (or worse!) it’s the kind of revenge the fairer sex only dreams about. Let’s see a new improved smoke detector do that.