It is a truth universally acknowledged that doorbells ringing in the middle of the night are never a sign of something good.
So there we were, passed out asleep like sane people. Hubby was probably dreaming of motorcycles. I was dreaming of…well who knows. I don’t remember. The dogs were curled up on their beds and everybody was all toasty and comfy.
Then the doorbell rings.
The dogs immediately start barking and race for the front of the house, hubby rolls out of bed, pauses for pants, and I’m left blinking in the sudden light of the bedside lamp wondering what the hell is going on. Because the doorbell is still ringing. And ringing. With incredible insistence. Pay attention! Wake up! Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding and on and on.
Hubby flips on the front porch light and peers out the peep hole. Nothing. He opens the door. Callie starts to go out, but we call her back in. Nobody’s there. Doorbell is STILL ringing. Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding.
So he goes to the garage door, flips on that light, peers out the peep hole. Opens the door. Nobody there.
Doorbell is still dinging.
We do not have a hard wired doorbell in our house, having instead been forced to use a battery operated one. So he pulls the buttons off both doors. Removes the battery. Still dinging.
He comes back into the hall and removes the cover on the main unit and we can see the little bar just moving steadily. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.
“I can’t see what I’m touching. Is that a battery?” he asks (because I’m the one who paused for glasses).
He pulls it out.
It was 5:30 in the morning.
So either our doorbell was possessed (hubby DID just download a ghost detection app for the iphone…snort) or it has a similar mechanism to a fire detector and begins going off uncontrollably to say “My batteries are almost dead! Do something!” Because I am paralytically afraid of ghosts, I’ll go with option B.
So heart pounding, limbs shaking from all the leftover adrenaline dumped into my system, I went to go back to bed. Hubby decided thirty minutes wasn’t worth it and got back up. Naturally I’d just fallen asleep and was in that Perfect Position when he came to get me an hour later.
At least it wasn’t an emergency.
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Hilarious post! I hate when the smoke detector starts that chirping thing. I cannot sleep and no matter what hour of day or night, must venture out for a 9V battery to make it shut UP. =P
Throw something like that at a writer (who of course has an over active imagination) and the adrenaline is bound to kick in. So glad this turned out to be a false alarm!
Well we actually had a bad guy who robbed a gas station up the street caught by the cops in our back yard sometime last year or year before at like 3 in the morning (dude totally clothes-lined himself on…well the big iron thing holding the clothes line), so we definitely have precedent to be freaked out.