Day 21: Adventures with My Smoke Detector

This is my smoke detector.

We all have had problems with our smoke detectors. Who among us hasn't dismantled a smoke detector? We each have our reasons. And whether it be from the beeping low-battery reminder or the smoke from your crack pipe hookah, the truth is that more than 50% of the smoke detectors in this country are currently disabled. I recently came home from my daily jaunt around North Hollywood to the sound of my fire alarm blaring. This has happened to all of us.

I tried the obligatory "wave the fumes" gesture.
I tried spanking it.
I tried taking a shower - just to get over the fact that I associated hitting the smoke alarm with "spanking" it.
Nothing worked. So I decided to take the battery out.

Then this happened.

Awesome. I cradled it back into its hole in the wall.

So I called up my landlady Bonnie to let her know.
She said, "Oh I'm so sorry to hear that. Let me come fix it."
And I said, "Thank you so much Bonnie."
And she said, "No problem. Be right over."
And I said, "Thank you!"
And she came right over. And she said, "Oh, don't you know there is a button right on top to get it to stop?
And I said, "Whaaaa?"
And she said, "See, right here."
And she pushed it. And she fixed it!

Except she didn't. Because none of that happened. Because Bonnie won't give out her phone number.  Because she prefers to communicate via index cards in her mail slot. Because old tenants have "harassed" her.

I find my day-to-day anxieties are calmed knowing that, in case of an actual emergency, Bonnie will come to my aid at the speed of an index card.

But no worries. I found a solution.

I just don't have a towel anymore.