Chirp, chirp, chirp...it goes on and on and, for the time being, there's nothing I can do about it. I don't need to go on a cricket hunt because it's not a cricket. The downstairs smoke detector is telling me it would like a new battery. The detector is in the shop section, the room with an unfinished 10-foot ceiling. If I had trouble with a two-step step stool in the kitchen, you can bet your bottom dollar I'm not going up on a ladder (the Kids' threats not withstanding). Under the circumstances, it's not all bad. Downstairs, behind closed doors, that repetitive chirp is low key, there, but not driving me to distraction. No one goes down there anymore, so the chances of a fire are nil. Living out here, I keep a supply of batteries of all shapes and sizes on hand. And, best of all, Cameron is coming soon. I know what will be numero uno on Helper Dude's list.
Yesterday was chill, but nothing Stove couldn't deal with. However, the sky at sundown was a possible portent of what may come today. Of course it will. I have to go to town today.
Stay safe. Be well.
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