This morning I was preparing to go out to meet my friend for coffee when my bathroom routine (music up, makeup, dance around, attempt to fix hair then give up for more dancing) was so rudely disrupted by a neighbour’s indefatigable fire alarm. At first I thought it was coming from our house. I had to walk up and down the living room five or six times before I could locate the mysterious beeping. You know when something’s so high pitched that you can’t quite tell where it’s coming from, just that it needs to STOP? It was like that.
It would pause for five Mississippis, giving me false hope that it had been turned off, but then it would start up again. I had to walk outside, in the drizzly rain, before I could be sure that the obstreperous thing belonged to my neighbour. The woman across the road even called to check on me (and the house) –it was that loud. I assured her that indeed I could hear it too but I was not to blame for screeching her ears off.
Anyway, the alarm finally ceased before I had to leave. My friend and went to a local cafe SLASH vegetable store (so weird or incredibly hipster?) that boasted a farrago of mis-matched farmhouse tables and organic everything.