(this got really long, which is just how it felt. you are under no obligation to read!)
At 2am I woke up to a beeping sound. I opened up my eyes, but did not get out of bed. I waited for more beeps (just to make sure I hadn't been dreaming) and I was rewarded. I struggled up and out of bed to investigate, but decided to pee first. A girl has priorities, you know.
I discovered that it was one of our smoke detectors, and had to stand directly under three different ones and wait for a beep to determine which one it was. Very annoying under normal circumstances, much worse in the middle of the night. I found the beeping and pulled a tall bar chair up under it so that I could reach. I looked at the chair and knew it would be a bad idea to climb up on it, but I really had no choice if i wanted the beeping to stop (and good lord, did I want it to stop!) So I very, very carefully hauled my large pregnant self up onto the chair and attempted to remove the smoke detector.
Eventually it came away from the ceiling, but I couldn't get the back off to get the battery out and it was suspended from it's power source so I was still fiddling with it while standing on the chair. I became mad at P for being gone and leaving me to deal with this and I felt like crying as the damn thing beeped in my hands. Then it stopped. I stood on the chair for several minutes to be sure and then climbed down. I decided to pee one more time and I went back to bed.
Fifteen minutes later the beeping started up again. I pondered just leaving it. Maybe I could sleep through the beeps. I covered my head and found my pillow an insufficient barrier against sound. This time I knew just how cold it would be if I got out of bed and was completely awake, so the idea of leaving my toasty covers was that much more unpleasant.
The beeping continued (of course) so I had no choice but to get up and deal with it. I walked down the hall, got myself back up on the big chair, and prepared to murder the smoke detector. Looking at the warnings of electrical shock and seeing visions of myself tumbling from the chair were not good for my overall emotional state. I couldn't get the thing apart and I considered calling P. What he was going to do about it from his hotel room in another state, I don't know, but I wanted desperately to share my misery and frustration with someone. I refrained, however, and he was luckier than he knows.
I tried again to pry the back off and felt huge relief when it opened up enough to wiggle the battery out. Until the fucker beeped again in my hands. I looked over to where there was a candle sitting in the room and considered starting a fire so that the smoke detector would have something to fucking beep about.
Instead I went downstairs in search of a new battery. Thankfully, we had one. Back upstairs and back up on the chair, new battery in hand, I was set. The end was in sight. Except I couldn't get the battery in properly. The back wouldn't come all the way off, so I had to fidget with it quite a bit. I began to tear up with frustration as the detector beeped again and again in my hands.
Eventually, the battery popped in and I exhaled with relief at not being shocked or falling down or something. I stood there waiting and the beeping did not resume.
It's there, dangling from the ceiling, as I refuse to climb the chair again, but it's quiet.
Relieved, I went back to bed.