Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
The obnoxious noise is what I’m greeted with when I open the door to my house.
“What in the world?” I ask the empty home, confused about what I could have left on. My bags drop to the ground, and I kick off my sneakers to start looking for the culprit making the obnoxious noise. The scouring begins in the living room. I check every little thing that has a plug. Nothing from the lamps, television, and extra charger I keep out here. I move on to the next room. Maybe it’s the microwave. I’ve been known to nuke my coffee mug before walking out of the house and leaving the door open. Maybe that could be the cause of the incessant noise. Nope, that’s not it. It’s not even getting louder, so clearly, it’s not in the kitchen. I move down the hall, checking each bedroom and bathroom. Nothing. There is literally nothing in this house causing that noise.
I backtrack, searching through every room once again. Looking high and low until I’m back in the kitchen. I didn’t think to try the laundry room. It’s off the kitchen, a small room that has windows on two sides, a hot water heater in the corner, and another door leading to the driveway. It’s kind of cute in a nostalgic kind of way. It’s also hotter than hell especially when you’re doing load after load in an un-airconditioned room. I’ve learned my lesson already: get in and get out, fold the laundry in the house because there’s no reason to drip sweat while working with clean clothes.
The door sticks when I try to open it. Another thing to fix down the road. Wood and the Florida humidity are a bitch. Then, when it rains, it swells even more. Looks like I’m going to have to put some ass into it. I turn the knob and hip-check it, lightly at first, and when it doesn’t budge, I put more of my weight into it. Finally, it breaks free, and I find the culprit of the most annoying noise I’ve ever dealt with in my life. Which is saying a lot considering who my womb and sperm donor are. God, I don’t know where that thought comes from, but it needs to go the hell away. No good will come about rehashing the utter pieces of shit they were to us. Nope, not going there.
I tilt my head upward to find a smoke detector. A laugh bubbles up inside of me, and there’s no controlling it from tumbling out. The slap of my hand over my mouth does little to muffle the laughter.
“Of all the freaking luck.” I get myself under control, or try to. Sometimes it’s hard when all you wanted to do after work is take a hot bath, eat dinner, and read. What’s a girl to do? Stand here and sulk or grab the step stool to see if I can turn the dang thing off. I guess it’s a good thing that I store the little ladder in here instead of out in the shed. It’d probably piss me off more. Though, maybe stomping my feet the entire way to the backyard like a toddler would get the annoyance out of me. I take a deep breath, open the step stool, and get to work. I’m beginning to realize why some people rent an apartment or house their entire lives. Between getting the house ready the past week and now this, I need a break. Which is dumb. I know I shouldn’t complain. I have it a million times better than last month, and I had help from family the entire time.
“Get over yourself,” I grumble. “This pity party needs to stop. Just because you’re tired doesn’t mean you need to turn into a raging bitch.” The little white round doohickey pops open, and when I pull it down, wires come down with it.
“Motherfucking fuck.” I let it go, allowing it to hang there. There’s no way I’ll be able to take a battery out. I’m going to need someone with electrical experience, and that person is not me. I feel like I’m handy with a lot of things around the house, but plumbing and electricity are not it.
Looks like I’m going to have to get online and find a tutorial or call the electrician. I’m thinking I’ll do the later since they re-did the wiring just before I moved in. Surely, this shouldn’t be going off already. And if I remember correctly, there’s some kind of warranty for the first year after they replaced the faulty shit to begin with.
I head back to the front door to grab my phone out of my bag, stopping along the way to open the refrigerator. My eyes lock on the candy bar. When a craving hits me like no other, I know what that means. The time of the month is coming. Welcome to shark week. No wonder I’m being a grumpy miser. May as well have chocolate and a glass of red wine. Maybe that will drown out the noise.