Dearest Rachel –
In Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, the story kicks into gear with the first of the spirits arriving at Scrooge’s bedside over the night before Christmas. Despite having been warned of both the fact (which, to be fair, he disbelieves at first) and the timing of this visit, Scrooge isn’t in the mood for this nonsense (or, to use his own favorite word, “humbug”). Even when the spirit points out that this is for his own welfare, he retorts that “I can think of no greater welfare than a night of uninterrupted sleep,” at which point the spirit reproves him further and more sharply, he grudgingly backs down, and the story begins apace. I hardly need to fill you in on the details; you know this better than I do, having read (and owned) the novella long before I came into your picture.
As much as the man comes across as a curmudgeon (to say the least), there is something to be said for his reactions to certain events that happen to him, and this is certainly one of them. Whereas, at one o’clock in the morning, you would still be an hour or two away from being willing to call it a night (although you might have fallen asleep once or twice even before I did), I would already have been asleep for a couple of hours, and in no mood to be disturbed either, even for something that might be for my welfare. Add to that the fact that I might not be entirely convinced of the thing’s efficacy toward that end, and being so disturbed could easily irritate me.
Such were the events of last night, or perhaps better stated, of the early morning hours of today. A loud chirping noise – louder than the few remaining crickets (in part because it was coming from within the house), and far earlier than any riot of birds – woke me at that self-same one in the morning that Scrooge found himself confronted by Christmas Past, followed by an announcement that could be heard throughout the house that “battery power low in main bedroom.” It’s likely this is why it was so loud, as it was coming from the smoke/carbon monoxide detector above the bedroom door, but that was only part of it – in recent weeks, as the batteries have announced their demise on the upstairs landing and within Daniel’s bedroom (which he never uses, so no biggie there) I could hear their complaints from the bedroom as well.
Can someone please tell me, though, why these things have to happen in the middle of the night? I did try to roll over and go back to sleep, but the detector continued to chirp insistently, and so I was compelled to get up and pull it down from the ceiling. I removed the batteries and disposed of them, and apologized to Daniel for the noise, despite the fact that he was still up, rather than having been woken by the racket – he’s your boy, after all. Then I went back to bed, serene in the fact that the interruption had been dealt with.
Of course, now I have three such detectors sitting around without batteries in them. Shouldn’t I be worried about how now I wouldn’t know if a fire were to break out in the house, or we might suffer a carbon monoxide leak? Maybe, but if I recall correctly, the house still has three other such units still running; all having been added as a part of the remodeling process two years ago. That’s still either equal to or more than the number of detectors we had installed when you were around – I think we had two in the stairwell and one by the pantry back in the day. I think we’re still reasonably likely to keep informed about the situation in the house
Besides, I expect that what I’ll be informed of by any of these remaining detectors is that they’re running low on battery power, and will need replacements of their own. The disasters they’re meant to spot and inform occupants of are urgent, yes, but they’re like winning the lottery or getting struck by lightning; they’re surprisingly uncommon. Sure, not having them up and running is a bad bet – they’re for our welfare, after all – but at the moment, these necessary nuisances feel like they’re just that. If the place is burning down, I’d want to be woken from a deep sleep, but right now, when there’s nothing to be so wrought over, I’d just like to get back to my rest, especially since I need to get in my exercise before Kris arrives (although that’s been put off due to troubles at her place) and waking up too late will preclude that.
Maybe when she does get here, I ought to take the opportunity to reload these units while I wait for her to wrap things up so I can pay her for her services. Until then, I’m sufficiently content to let these things sit, just like we used to do back in the day when these things would rouse us from slumber by beeping at us like hungry bird chicks. Still, it’s probably best that you keep an eye on us in the meantime, and wish us luck, as we’ll likely still need it all the same.
Letters to Rachel 