False Alarm

On Gaston Avenue, the loud-as-hell beep that warns that there's a low battery in the upstairs smoke dector never goes off at, say, 3 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon. No sir. It always happens at 4 a.m. on a Tuesday morning. And it always occurs during the middle of a delightfully delusional dream --- I've just discovered that it really only takes three hours to drive from Texas to the Colorado ski slopes so I've just purchased my first season lift ticket ever. BEEEEP! Damn it.