Okay, I’m finding it hard not to take the random smoke detector alarms personally.  I think it has something to do with me.  Not that I’m smoking hot, but I might be giving off some sort of magnetic field that interferes with them.  I mean, when I was working and wearing watches, they always ran fast, every single watch.  And there were two streetlights in our Castlegar neighbourhood that would either go on or off when I drove or walked by, every single time.  In Leduc there was a streetlight at the entrance to our subdivision that would go off when I drove by it at night.  So, I’m thinking something’s going on there.

Any way, we have been having issues with the smoke detectors here in our townhouse. First the one on the main floor started chirping.  We assumed the battery needed changing, so Dale took it down and we discovered our smoke detectors didn’t have battery backup. Well, that was surprising, but it didn’t fix the problem.  Dale vacuumed it and put it back up.  About three weeks later it did the same thing.  This time Dale traded it out with the smoke detector downstairs, figuring it was further away and I wouldn’t hear it if it chirped.  He was wrong.  My ears are now super sensitive to smoke detectors; I can even hear when one goes off in the neighbourhood.

The final straw came last Saturday night.  Dale got home from a fishing trip later in the day.  Neither one of us had had dinner so I made us some toast.  I didn’t burn the toast, and I had the fan over the stove on low (I never cook anything without the fan on now, I don’t boil the kettle or use the toaster without it either) and suddenly the smoke detector went off.  It wasn’t a steady alarm but three quick and loud sounds.  Dale grabbed a tea towel and started swinging it at the detector.  That was when we learned that the smoke detectors in the house, all four of them (one on each level and an extra one in the garage), are attached.  All four of them started going off, not simultaneously but in random sequence.  BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! from the main level.  BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! from the lower level.  BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! from the upstairs.  The one in the garage was going off I’m sure but we couldn’t hear it.  Dale ran around checking to see if there was a fire somewhere.  Maybe it was a coincidence that I was making toast. Nope.  No fire.  So we opened windows and doors and hoped the alarm would stop.  Oh, and our complex has a light outside each unit.  It was flashing, so that if there was a fire, the fire department would know which unit to rush to.  Our neighbour came over, to see if we were okay.  Dale was saying a few choice words about our stupid smoke detectors when the poor woman came to the door.

Well, the alarms eventually stopped but by that time I was fully traumatized.  I couldn’t even eat the toast!  I slept with one ear open, waiting for them to go off again.  When I got up in the morning Dale was on the computer. researching the best smoke detectors to have near kitchens and the ones that are the best rated for not giving false alarms.  He then went to Lowe’s and bought four new detectors and installed them.  Last weekend he vacuumed our vents and they were full of drywall dust and debris. He thought maybe the old smoke detectors were contaminated, clogged with stuff that made them think there was smoke in the air.  And the new ones have battery back-up, something we will need if the coming winter season has storms like the one we just had.

However, even with new detectors in place I can’t relax.  I made crème brulee last night and the oven had to be on broil to brulee the sugar.  That was fun!  I had the fan on high and I was hyper-vigilant, peering into the oven, watching for the merest hint of smoke; as a result the sugar wasn’t properly melted. This morning I made toast.  I put the toaster on top of the stove and turned the fan on high.  I like my toast nicely browned and crispy.  This morning it was lightly browned and still somewhat soft.  Tonight I’m planning to make a stir fry in the wok.  My heart is palpitating just thinking about it.

I don’t want to make light of people who have gone through horrendous trauma, but I think I may have SDPTSD; Smoke Detector Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It is great that we have things to keep us and our possessions safe.  Our townhouse has sprinkler heads everywhere, even in my walk-in closet.  But when you can’t cook or bake properly, or when you worry about the steam coming up from the pasta you are draining in your sink, things have gone too far.  Is it too much to ask that I can sear a pork tenderloin on the stove or that I can melt cheese on toast in my oven without having severe anxiety about the flipping smoke detectors?  Then and again, maybe this is a Mary Ellen issue, not a smoke detector issue.  Maybe we didn’t need new smoke detectors, maybe I need therapy, and a realignment of my chakras so that I don’t send out metaphysical electric signals. Whatever, I just want to cook and bake without elevated heart and breathing rates!