Callapidder Days

Last night did not go according to plan. “Plan” involved folding some laundry, reading, going to sleep, and enjoying 8.5 hours of slumber. Reality did not cooperate.

It all started yesterday morning, when –

Okay, that’s all wrong. It all started last fall, when we had some phone trouble. Our phone line wasn’t working, but the phone company didn’t believe me. Instead, they had me going from room to room, testing every phone jack. No jacks were working, including the one at the phone box outside. Then they said, “Do you have a security system? If so, you need to reset it.”

Based on past experience, I believe the people at our local phone company are usually clueless, but I go along with their suggestions so I can say I fulfilled my end of the bargain. So I went down to the basement, and unplugged the security system. Things went horribly awry.

Sparks flew. Loud noises commenced. I felt a shock and jumped or was propelled backward. Lights throughout the house instantly went out. The outlet became soot-covered, the plug’s prongs became contorted. But I survived.

Chad could better explain what happened, but basically the outlet had a loose metal plate and when I pulled the plug out, contact between the prongs and the metal plate caused a short. Chad — being the relaxed, laid-back person he is, simply squished the prongs back into place, plugged it back in and we went on with our lives.

(Oh, and we were right, by the way — the phone company had done something on their end. But that’s beside the point.)

So yesterday, while some guys were putting new steps in our basement, one of them noticed the blackened outlet and plug, and helpfully unplugged the security system, letting me know that it was a fire hazard. Now, it may very well not be, but I knew he was just trying to be helpful, so I simply said “Thank you” and they left.

However.

Chad was out of town last night. And that’s prime security-system time for me. We live in a very safe neighborhood, but I feel better knowing that loud noises, flashing lights, and subsequently screaming children will confront any potential intruders. So I use it.

I had a dilemma. I could try plugging the system back in, but I had very clear memories of sparks and shocks and backward propulsion and fear. Did I want to try to do that when Chad was not around to call an ambulance for me? Not particularly. Yet if I didn’t, I couldn’t use the security system that night. I talked to Chad on the phone. He assured me that I’d be fine if I plugged it in. He also assured me that no one was going to break in, but I only listened to the first part.

I went downstairs, picked up the plug and stared at the outlet. There’s no plate on it anymore. There’s just the bare outlet, wires, and metal. I put the plug down. I picked it up. I put it down. C. noticed my hesitation and proclaimed that I should not do it. Whatever “it” was.

Suddenly, I had a thought: What if the keypads and alarm noises still worked? Maybe they were wired right into our electrical system. If they were still functional, I could handle that for one night. Maybe the police wouldn’t be summoned by the security company, but the noises, lights, and screaming children would still scare away the bad guys.

I went upstairs and tested them. Yep, they still worked. I set the alarm. I opened doors to test it. The alarm was indeed functional. Solution reached.

The evening went on, children went to bed, I folded laundry, I set the alarm… and I went to bed.

11:30 p.m. — I’m awakened from sleep by the alarm. Because we have accidentally set off the alarm in the past, I am apparently subconsciously programmed to Stop the Beeping Before It Turns into Blaring and Children Hear It and Rise From Their Beds. I leaped from my covers, teleported across the room, and turned off the alarm in 0.716 seconds. Without even realizing it.

Then it hit me.

“What am I, an idiot? Someone just broke into our house and I was kind enough to shut off the alarm for him!”

I listened. I couldn’t hear anyone moving around the house. I looked at our cat to see if her fur was raised. She was grooming her hind quarters in the corner of the room. Because she’s helpful and supportive like that. I stared through the slightly-open bedroom door, watching for any sign of movement on the landing. Someone had to be in our house. Why else would the alarm go off?

“I bet it’s that punk kid who was helping with the stairs. He was just acting nice and helpful. But he knew the security system would be down tonight. He probably cased our house with some friends and then broke in after all the lights had been off for a while. They’re probably downstairs right now, stealing credit card numbers from my purse and planning to take my Mac.”

I thought about the shotgun. I knew I could get to it. I could patrol the house, making click-chink noises with the gun (you know, that intimidating “this-here-gun-is-now-loaded” sound). That would scare them.

[Please note, I realize now, in the bright light of day, that this sounds nuts. But when you've been wakened out of a sound sleep by an alarm that just happens to go off on the one night your security system is down, things seem far, far more sinister.]

In the end, after about 15 minutes of staring at the dark landing while listening to my cat lick her fur, I decided I was too tired to patrol the house with a gun. Instead, I put on my glasses, grabbed the telephone, and climbed back in bed. So much for sinister.

I stared at the keypad across the room. It has a little light on it that blinks whenever it picks up movement downstairs. I’d just watch the light and at the first sign of blinking, I’d call 911.

And that’s how I fell asleep, sometime after midnight. Glasses on. Phone in hand. Thumb on the 9 button.

The phone rang at 6:30, startling me since it was ringing right by my face. The company that is in charge of delivering the flooring material for our basement was wondering when they could stop by.

And they were wondering that at 6:30.

A.M.

I gave up on sleeping and got up.

In case you’re wondering, I found out later that the security system had been running on battery backup, and when that backup was ready to run out, the alarm went off to “alert” me to that fact. It would be nice if they programmed it to “alert” me during normal waking hours, rather than when it’s dark and any normal person might be sleeping, I think. They called me this morning to find out why my system wasn’t communicating with them. I gave them the story and all is well.

There’s no point to this very long and boring blog post, other than to demonstrate that I’m a little bit insane. I grew up without an alarm system. My husband grew up without an alarm system. We have good locks. We live in a safe neighborhood. We have nothing worth stealing. Yet even so — wake me up late at night with an alarm, and I can convince myself of all kinds of horrible things. But clearly not horrible enough to make me leave my bedroom.