You Are Definately Safe... Maybe.

We have an alarm system in our house. I never pay attention to it because for the most part, I feel completely safe in our home.

It needs to be said that I am a night owl. I usually do not climb into bed until after midnight and if truth be told, I see 2 a.m. on my bedside table clock many a night. I like to stay up late because I can get things done in peace. I can wash the kitchen floor without little people walking through it making footprints. I can fold laundry without little people unfolding it at the speed of light. I can scrub all of the toilets and I will know that they will remain sparkling clean for at least 5 more hours. AND, I can think up all kinds of schemes to convince Cousin Steve to participate in with me.

Now, because I am such a night owl... I hate the morning. I get up every day at 6:45 a.m. Yes-I am aware that this schedule does not offer me much beauty sleep, but that is okay. I have always had a face for radio anyway.

So, back to the alarm system.

This morning at 5 a.m. I was woken from my slumber by a loud beeping sound. I looked at my alarm and couldn't figure out why my music was not waking me up and then I realized what time it was and scratched my head trying to decide if 5 a.m. is an actual time or a time in the interflux of space (is there such as thing as an "iterflux of space" I don't know, but at 5 a.m. anything is possible... and is "interflux" even a word? I don't think so). I then thought that it was maybe Hope's alarm going off and waited for her to stop it. When that didn't happen I thought that maybe Emma's clock was accidentally set and got up to go turn it off. When I got into her room, not only did I realize the sound was not coming from there, but Emma does not even have an alarm clock. So I stumble into the living room listening-trying to produce the location of the obnoxious sound. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen, and in my half awake state I decipher that the refrigerator must be going off. I open the fridge door and close it... the sound was not coming from there. Of course not-have you ever heard of a refrigerator having an alarm that goes off at 5 in the morning? Me either.

Then it dawns on me-it is the alarm system. I open the mudroom door only to be greeted by a blaring that makes me put my hands over my ears. I fumble and hit it a few times not able to open the stupid contraption that is telling me that either the house if on fire or I am going to be butchered by a killer in 30 seconds.

I pry the cover off and start hitting random numbers-not able to remember what our code is-but being careful not to touch the police button or the fire button. I punch in 2895839. That didn't work, so I try 204967393. That didn't work either so I try 4067303-65. No luck on those numbers as well. UGH! I finally hit the clear button and the blaring stops.

Stupid alarm.

Then it tells me to "check 6F".

Check 6F? What does THAT mean? Where is 6F?

So I start looking for the manual because surely that would tell me just where 6F is in our house.

I could not find the manual. I found the refrigerator manual and I was right... it does not have an alarm.

So I grab the phone in case I need to call 911 or bash someone over the head with it and start checking windows. Everything was locked and secure and so I go into Emma's room and grab the dog who was snoring on her back with her legs straight up in the air. I pull her into the living room and say "Sophie! Who's here?" She looks at me, sniffs the air, stretches, yawns, curls into a ball and falls back asleep.

This actually made me feel better because Sophie barks if a pin drops. She barks if a car dares DRIVE past our house. She barks if the neighbor farts.

Nothing gets past Sophie... except for the blaring sound of the alarm system.

So I do the next thing I can think of and I email my husband on the other side of the world and tell him that I very well may be dead when he reads this email, but if he could tell me just where he put the alarm system manual with the zone settings I would appreciate it. I was sure he put it somewhere where he thought would be a logical place for me to find it, only my logic is completely different than my husband's so apparently-he hid it from me. I am sure my husband loves when I send him emails like these.

I checked the windows again and realized that the alarm company did not call me and there are no police officers breaking down the door to save me so something else must be going on here.

My brain started to function a little and I decided to call the alarm company myself and ask them just where 6F is in my house.

When I called they wanted to know my access code number... which I did not have because I could not find the manual that my husband put in a logical place for me. I told the lady that I understood it was only a 17-numbered access code, and yes, I should be able to remember such things at stressful moments but basically she could kiss my butt.

I finally convinced her to just tell me what the hell 6F would mean-to which she responded:

"That is a cell tower somewhere in the area that has gone down. There is no breach in the safety barrier around you home."

"Huh?" I asked "So no one is about to break in my house and kill me?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone and then a long sigh, "No ma'am. No one is going to kill you tonight."

That was all I needed to hear and I hung up the phone, patted Sophie the guard dog on her head and climbed back into bed to get at least 14 minutes of beauty sleep until my alarm went off.

The excitement never ends...


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