6:45 AM.

Beep.

Me: Grah. Mhmm. Zzzzzzzzzz.

Beep.

Me: You don’t understand. The magic Narnia door is CLOSED. That means I am completely alone in this bedroom. No stupid cats, no outside world, just me and this fabulous bed. Go away.

Beep.

Me: Goddammit.

It was at this point that I became concerned. The incessant “beep” made me think that perhaps my smoke alarm was going off. Or goddo forbid, the carbon monoxide detector-thingie. Or maybe I had a missed message on my cellphone that I never answer. Nevertheless, I couldn’t sleep anymore. This ENRAGED ME.

Beep.

Me: Fuck.

So I got up. Did my morning business, smoked 1/3 of a cigarette (I AM WORKING ON IT, PEOPLE) fed the cats and flung open my laptop to catch up on the business that had occurred since I went to bed last night. Of course there was nothing, because IT WAS 6:45 AM ON A FREAKING SATURDAY MORNING.

Beep.

Now I’m pissed. I stare and scowl at the smoke alarm. Nothing. I glare and give the finger to the carbon monoxide detector thing. Nothing. I cower in front of my phone. Nothing.

Beep.

I instant message my mom. “I am about to stand on my porch and start screaming ‘WHO IS BEEPING I WILL END YOU!!!!!!!’ which…would probably anger the condo complex. Maybe I should rethink that.” She agreed.

Beep.

I have furiously inspected every damn electronic device in this house, including the ones that are currently unplugged. I have accused the cats of beeping. I have accused the empty ginger ale bottle of beeping. I am losing my damn mind.

Beep.

OH MY GOD, Y’ALL I THINK I’M HALLUCINATING. AGAIN.

Beep.

Someone save me.

Beep.