BEEP.

I was trying to think of something to post - I very much appreciated the comments and emails and very much want to keep writing so I can interact with you. I was tired of dealing with the work I brought home, so I decided to shower and think of something to write.

Chienne (who believes water is liquid evil) started to climb in the shower with me. This is unusual to say the least, but I decided that I was in her bathtub and she wanted it back. So I laughed at her, informed her that I would soon be done with the tub, then turned off the water so she wouldn't get wet. She's selfish, yes, but doesn't deserve to be bathed because of it.

I was putting on pajamas when I heard the beep.

The dog was trying to squeeze herself under the bed and I realized she had braved the shower because she was scared of the noise.

I've heard intermittent beeping before, so I glared at the smoke detector and went to look for my batteries, hoping Dad had placed some in the kitchen drawer. I couldn't find them, but I went back in the bedroom to twist the little white circle off the wall.

"Don't hurt yourself." I warned out loud since there was nobody else to suggest I go get a stable chair from the dining room rather than the one that swivels from the office. In my defense, it was a whole 10 steps closer!

The back wouldn't twist off the detector, so I pried at it with a screwdriver (yes, I'm very handy) until it loosened and I could remove the battery. I took it to the garage, remembering that when I removed the noisy one in the office, it continued to beep angrily as it died.

I returned to my spot in the living room, but continued to hear the beeping. I decided it was for the best - I really should put the detector back up. So I looked harder for batteries, found some, and replaced the battery and carefully put everything back. I told the dog everything should be fine, but didn't even reach the loveseat before hearing the beeping again.

"Son of a bitch!" I remarked, acknowledging I'd probably be using that phrase several times in the next few minutes.

I changed the battery in the hall smoke detector, knowing all the while the beeping was coming from the bedroom.

So I sighed at the continued beeps - about a minute apart - that were now just taunting me for fun and walked to the bedroom to think.

I turned off the ceiling fan and my noise machine - the rain sound helps me sleep - and flopped on my bed, closed my eyes and listened.

I lasted one beep before swearing and fetching the office chair once again, climbing up and removing the alarm for the second time. I laid it on my stomach when I reclined again so I could decide whether it was actually making noise (which didn't make sense because I'd changed the battery already) or if the wiring in the wall had evolved enough to be able to beep with no apparent mechanism for doing so.

"It's not you." I told the detector after the next beep. I took it to the living room (where it still rests on the couch) so it couldn't get blamed yet again for a noise it wasn't making.

Back on the bed, in the quiet darkness as I waited for the next beep, I turned my hostile glare to the wiring. "How are you doing it?!" I asked.

Then I jerked my head to the right as I heard another beep. I replaced the battery today in my stupid pager. I hate the little sucker - always have - so I let it stay dead for several days. Newly powered, it rested in the pretty pink purse resting on my bed. Apparently the tiny black box wanted to know the date and time, so it ruined a good 30 minutes of my evening.

Just to prove my authority, I did not tell it the time. I turned it off. Because enough is enough.

I rather appreciated the distraction, honestly. When I'm consumed with small problems, I can forget about the underlying pain that surrounds me lately. Not for myself - I'm really OK - but for incredible people who have somehow suffered some profound loss. When acknowledging those losses, it seems inevitable to understand that bad things - events that are awful and undeserved and shocking - can happen to me as well. And that's sad and scary and painful. And as I turn these issues over in my mind, found myself desperately seeking privacy at work when tears emerged unexpectedly, I think I'm preparing for my next miserable experience by trying to figure out how to deal with this one.

The beeping, while annoying, is under control. I would have continued to try different things - and I started to think hard about all the electronic equipment that could possibly make noise in this house - until I made it stop. That control soothed me. Even if I was wrong about the source of irritation - my past experience with noisy smoke detectors led me astray - I eventually made it stop. Likewise, eventually the pain from the loss will ease. I won't think about it as much, though I know there are reminders. Losing someone - even a person who played a rather peripheral role in my life - always hurts when I remember to think of it.

But for now, there's blessed quiet. I think I need things to be quiet for a little while - controlled, calm and easy. It wasn't my goal for this space to be "Minor Revisions - where you go to get bummed out." But when you're so sweet and accepting of my painful posts, it only gets easier to tell you when I'm sad. I appreciate it very much.