Golf *can* be a useful INDOOR sport.
I'm half deaf in one ear, and can't hear out of the other.
Not from screaming kids either.
We have one of our smoke detectors on the ceiling in
Anyway, after cleaning the ashes from the woodstove, I
As the afternoon progressed, Damian and Lucifer were in
Suddenly we hear that high pitched, VERY loud screaming
We ran into the hallway, I grabbed a chair, trying to keep my
However, there was no smoke billowing. So of course that
I got up on the chair and while still trying to cover my ears, pulled
Scratching my head, and getting dizzy with the shrieks coming
Finally completely fed up, I reached for a golf club.
Raising it high over my head, and with a ferocious growl, I
I was dumbfounded.
My gaze travelled to the doorbell mechanism high up on the wall
It was at that point, that he noticed the carbon monoxide detector
"DAVE!
I dropped the golf club, bent down, and pushed the reset button.
Silence.
In fact, it was SO silent, that the silence was louder than the
Now I felt bad.
This was worse than road rage.
I suddenly didn't feel like "SuperDave" heroine of the earth,
I felt like Tiger Woods after losing the Masters. A small
However, since I think Golf is one of the most boring sporting
Have you ever watched Golf on television?
If those commentators were any more exciteable, they
"YEAH BABY WAY TO NAIL THAT SOB... YOU ROCK MAN!!!"
Just a quiet "And it's in... Tiger will sure be pleased with that
*YAWN*
Anyway, ladies, when your Mr Happies insist on a new set of
~~~~~~Dave~~~~~~~
Though I'm sure that might contribute.
the hallway upstairs. Our woodstove is in the living
room at the end of the hallway. Hold on, I'll make a map...
left the ashbox sitting next to the stove, loaded and made
a fire, and promptly left the ashbox sitting where it was.
There was no threat of fire, but as anyone with a woodstove
knows, hot coals heating ashes creates toxins that are
highly icky and really not good for you.
a heated competition of "Battle Toads" on their computer.
that normally comes from good smoke alarms. It was
deafening.
ears covered, and waved a newspaper at the bottom of the
detector, you know, to get the billowing smoke away in order
for it to shut off.
didn't shut it off. There was no smoke *anywhere* for that matter.
out the battery. It still kept screaming. Damian and
Lucifer stood in the hallway, hands over their ears.... I sent
them scurrying, sniffing for smoke downstairs, in the attic....
while I stood there staring at the screaming smoke
detector with no battery in it.
from it's battery free body, I could NOT understand
how it kept screaming.... but it was REALLY
getting on my nerves now.
I poked at it, prodded it, on and on the screaming continued.
beat at it, smashing, maiming and finally knocking it from the
ceiling, killing it... we're looking at the carcass, all three of us,
smiling, thinking what a brilliant mom I am... then realized
that the screaming beeping is still going on.
I couldn't believe it had any life left in it.
I stood there, golf club in hand, looking around me for something
else to beat to stop the deafening racket, puzzled
that this modern piece of technology could be
working with no power.
thinking perhaps it TOO was possessed and attempting
to drive us all mad. As I raised the golf club towards it,
Damian dropped to the floor with his hands over his ears...
plugged into the wall (behind the headboard
which if you recall from an earlier chronicle, I had kicked while
playing soccer with Lucifer).
He jumped up and yelled over the ear shattering noise:
WAIT!
Don't kill the doorbell box!!
It's this thingie that's making all the noise! "
screaming beeping seconds before. The carbon detector
picked up on the few wisps of toxins the ashbox was giving out.
I beat and killed an innocent smoke alarm.
It lay there in a crumpled heap at my feet.
Gingerly I picked up it's broken peices, collected limbs,
miscellaneous smoke detector guts and placed it all in a
small box on my kitchen counter. Apologizing, comforting....
knowing it was too late.
saving her family from certain destruction.
appliance serial killer. A psycho armed with a golf club and
a small twitch.
events to ever be introduced (ack *OW!* HEY!!!! ducking the
onslaught of golf balls and assorted rotten vegetables from
Golf a holics), I did find use for the clubs.
might just get a hair out of place. I think they should
use retired Wrestling commentators for Golf shows. Spice
it up a little. All that whispering!! You don't see them jump
up to high five all the other announcers gleefully screaming:
shot"
clubs, let them, just be sure he gets a really good driver,
they
come in *very* handy.
Take me home!
Main Dave's Chronicles