Chirp!

I’m standing in the upstairs bathroom preparing to dry my hair. I’m alone in the house. It’s too loud for a trapped bird.

Chirp!

My cellphone is downstairs on the kitchen counter. It has to be the smoke detector located just outside the bathroom door. The battery must be dying.

Chirp!

It’s not going to stop. At least it’s not the middle of the night. I’m a vertically challenged 72-year-old. No way to reach that thing on the ceiling of the hallway.

I head down the stairs, locate the two-step folding stool and go back up. I mount the steps, but I’m still too short. No way I’m going to hau...