I just got up. Had a full-moon sleepless night combined with a smoke alarm that decided it wanted its batteries changed at 2 am. That was an adventure. Smoke alarm will never bother me ever again. I killed it. It wouldn't open up so I finally ripped the damned thing off the ceiling, and it still wouldn't open to get the batteries out! So I took it out to my patio in the pouring rain and smashed it with a hammer because it wouldn't stop telling me "low batteries" and then had the audacity and unmitigated gall to start shrieking at me. It didn't want to give up even after many blows. At that point, I got vicious and took out all my aggression on it, every tiny little thing that had ever annoyed me, and was almost disappointed when it finally shut up because I was having a perfectly lovely time beating it to death. In. The. Rain.
Now I have two screw holes in the ceiling in my sitting room.
Oh...and so that I could see what I was doing when I was trying to get it open, I turned on a lamp. Poof! Bulb burned out with a big pop and smoke. Unplugged lamp. I guess that's dead, too. It might be a goner, has been acting strangely for about a year. Bought that thing maybe 30 years ago and paid a whopping $100 for it at a time when nobody with good sense paid $100 for a lamp. Now I'm scared of it because I think it's all part of a grander plan between it and the smoke alarm.
Sat on my patio this morning with my coffee and gloated while looking at the dead smoke alarm.