snow alarm grandpa has a house in truckee. we stay there when we go skiing. he's kinda old and his hearing is even worse than mine. the smoke alarm in our room was malfunctioning. weeep! twenty minutes later. weeep! eventually i had had enough. but it was the middle of the night after 8 hours in a car cause of idiots who can't drive in a snow storm. i hadn't acclimated to the altitude yet. and this damn thing wouldn't let me sleep. i'm not quite tall enough to pull it off the ceiling. so i stood there in the dark looking at the source of my troubles just out of reach. powerless. a voice speaks from the dark. i know that voice. it is a good voice. there's a rocking chair in the hallway covered in stuff. i'm glad the voice told me the chair was covered in stuff. i wouldn't have been able to find it in the dark feeling pathetic. standing on the rocking chair i could unplug the hateful device. i sorta wished the voice had told me to get a chair that didn't rock. no matter. i must obey the voice. weep! huh? oh. it's got a battery. i removed that and oh bed looked oh so good. i could go cuddle with the warm soft source of that wonderful voice. weeep! what the hell? i picked up the hateful thing. and contemplated smashing it. but was afraid i'd release the demonic life force that possessed it unto the world. take it downstairs, said the voice. so i did. i opened the front door and pitched it into the snow. thumpity thump. let it wake the snowmen.  ¶ 8:00 AM