Today I threw out a recycled Gatorade bottle which housed my granddaughters' grasshopper and bug collection. As I tossed the bottle, the little air-holes for the now-dead bugs made me think I should tell you about a night last week.
After writing all day long, a dozen ideas buzzed through my mind about the devotional book I am writing. My eyes looked like mosquitoes had ice-skated on my eyeballs all day. I was tired. I took my nightly Cetirizine to ward off Oklahoma allergies and popped a magnesium-laced calcium tab to deter leg-cramps. One last sip of water and I lay back in my Posturpedic bed and adjusted it to fit the comfort I needed for a good night's rest. Hubby was softly snoring beside me. He'd already taken his nightly meds and turned in early. He was bone-tired. As customary, I put the bed on vibrate for its sleep-lulling hum. Slowly I counted the inhales and exhales of my breathing. I was almost in dreamland when a screeching, piercing sound jerked me to attention. The fire alarm!! I jumped out of that bed like a frog on a hot grill. I grabbed my jammy bottoms and stuffed my legs in, as I yelled at my husband. On the third, "Bob!!", he popped up and yelled, "What? what?"
"The fire alarm is going off!" I reminded him that our son-in-law told us if that ever went off, to get up and get out of the house ASAP. You see, our little section of living space connects to my daughter's living space and necessitates a combined fire alarm system should either side have a fire. Hubby groggily started for the bedroom door to check for a fire. I said, "Honey! get your pajamas on! We have to go outside! Remember?" He hops into his jammy bottoms as I head to the bathroom to see if I'd left a curling iron on or something. I'm hoping this is a false alarm. I'm wondering if the fire is in my daughter's house. I jerked open the door and my grandson (our fireman), pushes inside and asks if we have a fire. I assure him it is not us. After he double-checks to see if I am right or demented, he leaves. There is no fire, so we all go back to bed. I felt so bad for my hubby who'd been sleeping so peacefully, and hadn't even heard the piercing screech of that alarm on our bedroom ceiling. I couldn't believe it took me three yells to waken him amid the sound of that alarm. But it did. We both crawled back into the bed and I restarted the vibrator to woo me to sleep as I chuckled at the comedy of it all in light of no real disaster.
The next day, I asked my daughter what in the world made that alarm blast us all awake the night before. She said my grandson thinks a bug of some kind crawled inside one of the tiny holes and set it off. I never really thought I'd be writing about how paradoxically irritated and grateful I am for a bug. However, the alternative of the alarm sounding because of a fire, makes bugs sound pretty good. I did wonder though as I tossed out the Gatorade bottle filled with dead grasshoppers. Had some other little insect been inside their residence and crawled out an escape hatch and into the alarm and caused the chaos and lost sleep for us? I don't know. But I think this grandma is going to insist on bugs in bottle remain outside from this day forward. Just to be safe.