At 6:30 a.m., my smoke detectorapos;s battery died. �I knew this because the smoke detector started chirping--loudly. �At this point in time I should probably point out that my apartment has very high ceilings, and not just from a short personapos;s perspective. �In other words, there is no way for someone to reach our smoke detectors without the aid of a ladder. �Needless to say, at 6:30 in the morning, there was no "someone" in the house except myself (other Rachel is home for the weekend). �And there was no ladder. �It was also 6:30 in the morning, and I was not happy to be awake.
I crawled out of bed, and went to get a chair and the Swiffer. �I positioned the chair and climbed up, Swiffer in hand. �Then, I aimed a few light taps at the smoke detector. �Chirp chirp chirp. �Frustrated, I banged the Swiffer against the side of the detector. �I was hoping that the front would pop off, thus enabling me to get at the battery. �No popping occurred, but the chirping stopped. �Pleased with myself, I hopped back into bed.
Cue 8 a.m. �Chirp, chirp, chirp. �Apparently my smoke detector had unbroken itself and was going to chirp until someone replaced its battery. �I got out of bed, and went to get the chair Iapos;d put back in the living room. �Then I went and got another chair, and a barstool. �Reminding myself that this was probably a really dumb thing to do, I balanced the barstool on top of a chair, and leaned the two against the wall. �Then, using chair number two, I climbed up my tower and prayed for life. �Teetering, tottering, I reached the smoke detector, unscrewed it, and let the front face and the battery fall to the floor. �Gingerly, I climbed down. �Then I put the chairs away, got in bed, and slept until 1:30. �Rachel: 1, Smoke detector: 0. �If the one in the living room starts chirping, weapos;re really in trouble, because the ceilings are even higher there, and there are no walls to balance against. �That, and I think a chair and two of our barstools might be required, and thereapos;s no way Iapos;d be able to climb that and not suffer a broken something.
I could have used the sleep last night. �Aside from the fact that I had a few beers at Crown and Anchor, Iapos;ve been up late this week working on applications for grants and fellowships. �Iapos;m currently filling out one application that requires a curriculum vita. �Considering the fact that Iapos;ve attended no conferences and published...nothing, I am engaged in the delightful project of glorifying my resume and turning it into a CV. �Also, pretending that the Vassar History Review and Gulliver count as real publications. �William and Mary Quarterly, Vassar History Review. �Same thing, really. �Please give me money, fellowship people. �I knew I was really panicked when I dreamt that the graduate adviser was giving me a ride to the airport and questioning me on my research goals. �At least in the dream, I got the fellowship.
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