Every year my granddaughters sell various items to raise money for their dance classes. I always buy a couple of the fruit and cream cheese filled bread braids. They come frozen and I took one from my freezer early this afternoon and put it on a baking sheet to thaw and raise. My apartment was cool today, so it wasn't ready for the oven until after 10:30 this evening.
Earlier this morning an installer came around to put in new smoke alarms throughout the building. The old alarm in my kitchen had never given me any trouble and worked just fine. But when I opened my oven door a little before 11:00 to check on the bread braid, the new alarm started wailing and yelling "Fire! Fire!" I shut the oven door and opened the window next to my stove, although there wasn't a whiff of smoke anywhere. I did everything I could think of to shut that alarm up. There are working folks living in my building who go to bed a lot earlier than I do. I had visions of irate, sleepy people lined up outside my door. Do you suppose that I could shut the darn thing off? Not a chance.
I finally set up my little mini step ladder, climbed up and tore it from the ceiling. It must have a battery backup, for it continued to scream "Fire! Fire!" long after I stuffed it under the pillows on my bed.
I poured a cup of coffee and sat down to wait for the bread braid to finish baking. And I started to giggle, thinking about how silly I must have looked, rushing about and trying to get the alarm to be quiet. Sort of like an old Laurel and Hardy movie.
I have a good landlord, and when I see him this weekend and tell him about my smoke alarm adventure, he will more than likely smile. He also knows that I use my oven often, for I bake my own bread every week as well as other baked goods and I use it for many of my meals, so I know that he will find a solution.
I have often joked that dinner is done when the smoke alarm goes off, but I didn't think it would be a reality. Sometimes the old thing that works should just be left alone.