Chirp

Okay, you can't fool me. Call it "anecdotal evidence" all you want, but I know the truth through the scientific method. First, you see, you observe something that seems to be a pattern, and from it you devise a theory. Then you test that theory over time, to see if it holds up. Through this, I have cleverly deduced one of the great unknown conspiracies:

The batteries in smoke detectors have little timers built in so that they will always start to die between 1:00 and 4:00 in the morning, thus waking people up when they start to chirp very loudly and making the general populace tired, cranky and iiritable. (And, apparently, unable to spell.)

As I'm sure you know, most good smoke detectors these days are wired into building power, and this is a good thing--but you always want them to have battery backups, because if the fire takes out building power, you don't want to lose your smoke detector at that very critical moment. Batteries are, therefore, a good thing. But you know how it always works out: the battery starts to go, and the smoke detector is programmed to start chirping so that you know to replace the battery and keep yourself from, you know, burning to death in a fire. But I'll bet you've observed it, too: the chirping only ever starts at some godawful hour of the morning. And "chirp" is the gentle way of describing a most ungentle sound.

Now one might be inclined to think this is all just coincidence, until you climb out of bed and try to remove the battery. The one I wrestled with last night was plugged into the wall through a plug that held tight like a squid with a bottle of fish in its tentacles. Plus it had this little tab that extended right over the battery compartment--you simply could not change the battery without first unplugging the unit, which was kinda sorta impossible. Plus there's the fact that the smoke detector is high up on a wall, and if I were something less than 6'3" it would've been pretty well impossible.

By this point, I was really incredibly awake.

Eventually a pair of pliers did the trick, though I'm amazed I didn't destroy the unit in the process. And now the unit sits on a counter, unplugged and unbatteried, and I'd better hope a fire doesn't start near the front door in the next few hours or I'm toast.

Insult to injury: even after you've removed the battery, the damn thing still retains a charge for a while. It still chirps. Larry David had enormous fun with this in the first episode of the new season of Curb Your Enthusiasm, and of course I watched and laughed and then, not two weeks later, lived through the same scene in real time.

But I just wanted to, you know, warn people. About this great conspiracy. Now let us all turn our attentions to the pernicious question of why.