One of my weaknesses is a sensitivity to noise, particularly when I’m trying to sleep. As I documented back in the summer of aught-six, my life was nearly ruined by a malfunctioning carbon monoxide detector in my then-next-door-neighbor’s apartment.
A few nights ago, I thought the malfunctioning detector had tracked me down with the intent to finish what it started back in ’06. It was after midnight, I was hanging out and I heard this short beep emit from somewhere on our ground floor every minute. It was a short, soft beep–just enough to drive me crazy, but not enough to be able to pinpoint the source of the beep, which is kind of self-defeating.
It took me a good 20 minutes of roaming around our ground floor like a lunatic hunting for the source of the beep before I found it: a cordless phone which had been off its cradle all weekend. I returned the phone to the cradle and the beeping stopped.
I don’t understand why, in a world where we have birthday cards that can play the audio of the first fifteen minutes of Star Wars, our more sophisticated electronic devices are limited to a beep when they need our urgent attention. I would have gone through a lot less hassle had my phone simply emitted a “your cordless phone is nearing the end of its power cycle” in a pleasing voice once or twice. I would have known what was causing the noise, where to find the source and how to remedy the problem.
(The titular line of this entry was inspired by a line from a Saved By The Bell episode. I’m not sure which one, but I believe Lisa said something to this effect to Screech).
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